"I actually survived..."
The roar of the main gun still echoed in his ears, but little Ruspel heard no sound, and he even wanted to sleep.
The need was so urgent and overwhelming that he could feel his eyes starting to close, but he couldn't sleep now.
The gunner fell sideways at his feet, and he could still see the prone body of the loader at the base of the turret.
Everything was so quiet, the swaying flames were like the sea water of the scorching ocean silently lapping at the portholes of a sunken ship. He shook his head to clear his head, but that only added some jumping gray patches in front of his eyeballs. .
They killed a Waldo destroyer, which was incredible. Maybe he would get a medal or some other reward.
Such as a beautiful house with a nest, or a farm with a beautiful view.
But that will all happen later. Now he must figure out one thing right away...
How long did it take after he lost consciousness?
He looked at the auspicious screen, which when reactivated was blank black, filled with swirling patches of color.
While working hard, little Ruspel murmured to the machine, praying for it to return to normal. He secretly learned a few prayers from the technical priests, although he didn't know if they would work.
But this time the God of Machinery actually favored him, a layman, and the apocalypse was restored!
Slowly at first, then as the screen flashed, it showed him the world outside the car.
Large blobs of heat swelled and pulsed across the screen, and he could make out the outlines of the wreckage, each thickly outlined by the intense heat.
There is nothing else.
Little Ruspel adjusted the width of his field of view, and then pressed the microphone.
The microphone was first disturbed, then silent, as if waiting for him to speak.
Little Ruspel licked his lips, suddenly realizing that his mouth was dry.
"All units..."
He opened his mouth and said:
"There are undead pests here..."
His voice gradually became darker. His company had all been killed except for them. Who else could he say these words to?
Suddenly, from deep inside the cabin, he heard a click, like the sound of something metal unlocking.
A moment later a sweaty face looked up at him.
"Sir."
The gunner's voice became very hoarse, which may be related to the long period of roaring he had done before.
"are you OK?"
"I am fine."
Little Ruspel nodded to the gunner.
"Others...?" he asked.
The gunner shrugged.
"I don't know, sir, it's been quiet for a while, since the shooting stopped."
"Are we damaged?"
"No, I don't...probably not."
The gunner sat down and collapsed on the floor.
"But...but the engine stopped a while ago, don't know why."
The gunner then pushed the loading hand, and the opponent's lying body moved, but did not wake up.
Little Ruspel also tried to move his legs so he could slide down into the base of the turret.
"Can you go check on the driver's seat?"
"I... think so."
The gunner began crawling across the floor, empty shell casings rolling beneath him. Inch by inch, he left little Ruspel's sight.
Little Ruspel kept the transmitter on while trying to maintain a rhythmic breathing, and time passed slowly.
"I have arrived."
The gunner was gasping for air.
"How are people?"
"Hold still, sir."
"Try to wake him."
"He...he's completely passed out, sir."
"Fainted? Or dead?"
"The man is still alive, but his head is full of blood. Throne! There is also blood on the console. Sir... he must have hit his head while firing."
"Can you see the console?"
"able."
"There's a putter, the red putter on the side of the console, do you see it?"
"Um."
"Pull it."
There was a vague click, then another, and then nothing.
"Sir——"
"try again."
After a moment's pause, there was another click, and another period of silence.
Suddenly, the undead vermin came to life with a shudder of activation, like a wounded beast beginning to pant.
"There should be a medical kit on the right side of the cab. You can bandage it."
"I'm doing it, sir."
Little Ruspel then coughed, and as the filtration system restarted, the fresh air seemed to burn as it was poured into his lungs.
Relief flooded him, and he looked at his hands, then glanced at the firelight still pouring in through the armored glass of the viewing window, and knew they had to move.
So he slid out of his seat, took a deep breath before getting into the driver's seat, dropped into the crawl space under the turret, and slipped his feet slightly on the shell casings.
At this time, the gunner was sitting next to the driver's seat, and the driver was still sitting on the chair. The blood dripping from the forehead bandage had dried and turned into a thick brown color.
At this time, the other crew members were basically awake and were figuring out their respective positions.
"Sir, have you ever driven a car?"
Seeing little Ruspel showing signs of driving, the gunner asked curiously.
"Ten years ago."
Little Ruspel nodded, and together with the gunner, he lifted the driver out of the driver's seat.
"Go and check on the others to see if anyone is injured, and then look at the auspicious device and the microphone."
The gunner nodded and began crawling toward the nearest correspondent.
Little Ruspel got into the driver's seat and looked at the console. It had been more than ten years since he last drove a tank.
There was blood on the sight glass and control levers, and it stuck to his hands when he held them.
He looked out through the front viewfinder. The enhanced display had dimmed the firelight to almost black, but he could see the remains of a machine directly in front of them.
Flames spurted out from its hatch, and its front armor had long since turned into a twisted ruin. A steel skull mark, somehow still visible through the soot and flames, ran through the side of the dead machine. side.
Slowly, he turned on the tank's power, and the Undead Vermin began to move forward, slowly at first, then steadily.
"Sir!"
His concentration was interrupted by the gunner's voice.
"There's something moving in the distance."
Look at the augur and the microphone. There was a chill in his heart, and there were enemies, or another group had come over to see what happened to the previous group.
"Dude."
Franz Lutz's tired voice came from the microphone.
"Speak back, immortal pest."
Franz Lutz felt his hands shaking on the console.
"I am here."
"Thank God, I thought you were dead."
"We're lucky to be alive, yes."
"Has the enemy been eliminated?"
The brief silence before little Ruspel spoke told the truth.
"We took out the enemy, a Waldo destroyer."
