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Chapter 382c
🕑 Added 2025-09-14 14:30:26 +0000 UTCChapter 382c
2-in-1-chapter
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Leo’s words stirred something in the soldiers.
They had seen with their own eyes how powerful Aurora PMC was.
The government forces had spent years locked in stalemates with the insurgents, unable to produce results.
But Aurora PMC had pushed the rebels out of eastern Bolivia in less than a year.
If Aurora could reach the capital in time, then the rebels would no longer be a threat.
A few days might seem long, but it was manageable.
Besides, Leo had said it himself—air support was only a few hours away.
Once the aircraft arrived and began bombing the rebels occupying the capital, it would take the enemy a long time just to regroup.
These soldiers had dealt with the insurgents for years—they knew how they operated.
Realizing they weren’t entirely alone gave the troops a renewed sense of hope. Their expressions eased, some even straightening their backs.
But Lieutenant Abbas didn’t share their relief.
Unlike the others, he remained silent.
Leo turned to him. “Lieutenant Abbas, is there something else on your mind?”
Abbas gave a bitter smile. “With your help, I believe we can hold the city. That’s not the problem. It’s just…”
“If those bastard bureaucrats find out the city didn’t fall, they’ll come crawling back—and go right back to riding on our backs.”
Only then did Leo finally reveal his true intent.
“You can let them, or you can choose a wiser leader to replace them.”
Leo’s objective had never been limited to controlling half of Bolivia.
His aim was the entirety of Bolivia.
And even that was not the final destination.
To truly oppose the megacorporations, one had to unite power and strength greater than anything those giants could muster.
Second Lieutenant Abbas was visibly shaken. “Sir, are you saying…”
Several soldiers, catching the implication in Leo’s words, looked at him in stunned silence.
“I’m not asking you to decide right now,” Leo said calmly. “Once you’ve driven the invaders out of your cities, you can make your decision then.”
He wasn’t worried that these soldiers would report him to the President.
Soon enough, Aurora PMC would act in ways that made their case clear—choosing them would be the right choice.
After all, if even a foreigner was willing to stay behind, to suffer and fight beside them through life and death, then how could anyone still place their hopes in that so-called elite class, the ones who fled faster than rabbits at the first sign of trouble?
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Having said what needed to be said, Leo didn’t waste time.
He immediately assigned them to defensive sectors. These soldiers didn’t need to strategize—what was required of them was simple: go to the areas Leo designated, fortify them, and prepare to resist the enemy.
These defense plans weren’t hastily drawn up or improvised. They weren’t guesswork or made in a panic.
They were based on defensive strategies Saul and his team had already developed in advance.
Not just for the capital, but for all of Bolivia. They had long studied where to attack and where to hold.
There was no need to start from scratch—Leo could deploy these plans immediately.
And these weren’t abstract theories drawn from maps in a backroom; they had been validated through repeated reconnaissance runs by drones.
While assigning the soldiers, Leo also contacted the training base located near the capital.
It was an Aurora PMC facility that had, for the past year, been used to train government troops.
The personnel there were few—just over a dozen instructors and several dozen soldiers—but manpower was urgently needed now. Even a few dozen extra fighters could make a difference.
Leo contacted them at once and ordered them to provide immediate support.
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La Paz, capital of Bolivia.
What had once been a meticulously maintained district for the wealthy had now become a playground for the rebels.
Rebel soldiers rampaged through lavish gardens without restraint, laughing and playing in swimming pools they had never seen before.
They roamed across golf courses, loitered in luxury shopping centers, and even occupied high-end restaurants.
The wealthy residents and their attendants, those who hadn’t escaped in time, now trembled as they served these brutal insurgents.
The rebels had never encountered so many brightly colored alcoholic drinks.
And all of it was top-shelf—brands they had never even heard of, much less been able to afford.
Inside one of the mansions, a man built like a bull lounged across the sofa, legs spread wide, eyes closed, resting.
He was alone in the entire house.
The other rebels had gone elsewhere to indulge themselves, none daring to intrude on this mansion.
After a while, a military officer entered and gently roused him.
“Truss, shouldn’t we get moving? We’ve wasted too much time here. There’s still an entire city waiting for us to conquer.”
The man opened his eyes, stood up, and washed his face at the sink. Without bothering to dry off, he wiped the water once across his face and let out a loud laugh.
“You’re right. Get everyone assembled.”
An hour later, in front of the mansion, the rebel militia finally began to gather—slowly, sluggishly.
Even now, a third of them were still missing.
And among those who showed up, many reeked of alcohol, their faces flushed, clearly drunk.
They had been enjoying themselves to the fullest.
Leo’s assessment had been accurate—the anti-government forces had not mobilized en masse. What had entered the capital was merely a small detachment of a few thousand fighters.
Capturing the capital was symbolically important, but there was another reason for their swift strike: to prevent the elite from having time to evacuate their wealth from La Paz.
By moving fast, they had caught the city’s upper class off guard. Most had fled with little or nothing.
Some, who received word too late, hadn’t managed to escape at all—they had been captured directly.
Their tactic had proven effective.
But now, drunk on their victories and looting, the rebels had temporarily forgotten why they came to the capital in the first place.
It was only thanks to his subordinate’s timely reminder that Truss remembered they had a larger mission to complete.
There would be plenty of time for pleasure later—right now, they needed to secure full control of the city.
Truss wasn’t too concerned. After all, if they could take the heavily guarded luxury district, then the poorer neighborhoods, full of sheep-like civilians, wouldn’t pose any challenge.
As for the government troops still in the capital, Truss didn’t consider them a threat.
The President and his elite class had already fled. Most likely, the remaining soldiers had either deserted or scattered.
Those who had stayed behind to resist?
Truss didn’t believe they had the will to fight.
If they had, how could the rebels have reached the capital in the first place?
Rather than worry about government troops, Truss was more concerned about the common folk in the slums. Their entry into the city had been loud, chaotic, and their looting had taken longer than expected.
Truss figured some civilians had probably managed to flee.
Still, that didn’t matter.
As long as not everyone had escaped, it was enough. What he didn’t want was a mass exodus—especially not one leading to Aurora PMC–controlled territory.
Right now, the rebel forces were in no position to fight a war against Aurora PMC.
Which meant they had to move. Quickly.
In the wealthy district, the rich who had failed to escape, along with their servants, stood trembling as they watched the rebel forces depart in full formation, heading in the direction of the civilian zone.
Just as they breathed a sigh of relief, believing that these harbingers of death had finally moved on, they were shocked to realize that one squad of rebels had not left with the others.
This detachment, instead of following the main force, raised their weapons and pointed them at the stunned residents.
Panic spread across the faces of the rich and their attendants.
“Wait... please, wait a moment...”
But the rebels did not listen. Without hesitation, they pulled the triggers.
The wealthy and their servants—who had just believed they had escaped death by pure luck—were riddled with bullets in an instant.
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The several thousand rebels who entered the city did not move as one unit. That would have been far too inefficient.
After careful consideration, Truss divided his forces into five separate groups.
Two of those groups exited the wealthy district and circled around the outskirts of the city, flanking both left and right in order to cut off any escape routes from the civilian zone.
The remaining three advanced along the three main thoroughfares that led directly into the heart of the civilian district.
Truss did not forbid his men from looting, burning, or killing. However, he imposed one specific restriction: they were not to kill children, physically fit men, or women with wide hips and large breasts.
This rule was not born out of any misplaced sense of compassion or pity.
It was purely utilitarian.
Children were blank slates—easily indoctrinated—and served as the most valuable source of new blood for the rebel movement.
Young, strong men made the best labor force. The rebels themselves had no intention of performing hard manual labor, yet such work always needed to be done. The solution lay in enslaving those men.
They were what the rebels referred to as “human ore.”
As for women with the desired physical attributes, they could be used to fulfill the rebels’ depraved, vulgar, and despicable urges. Beyond that, they could be forced to bear children—children who would eventually grow up to replenish the ranks of the insurgents.
As for the elderly, the chronically ill, and anyone who dared resist—they were subjected to merciless execution.
The rebels would not waste food or resources on those unable to contribute physically. The sick were treated no differently.
And for those who resisted, there was never any question of negotiation or compromise—only death.
