Metal Slug Soldiers Novels & Stories

They didn't crash; they slowed at the last second, hissing open to reveal the Continuum Soldiers. ​They weren't like the GSC or the Sterling mercenaries. They didn't wear bulky armor. They wore "Living Suits"—a translucent, shifting mesh that looked like liquid muscle. They moved with a terrifying, insect-like grace, their faces obscured by smooth, featureless masks. ​"Target identified," one of the soldiers said, its voice a synthesized harmony. "The Mother. The Hub. And the Failed King." ​"Failed King?" Liam growled, raising his pulse-rifle. "I’ll show you failure."

They stood with military precision. The filthy rags sloughed off their shoulders, falling into the toxic sludge of the loading bay to reveal the sleek, matte-black armor beneath. High Council Stalkers. They had embedded themselves in the dying perimeter packs, waiting for the dome to crack, waiting for the anomaly to step out of the light. The lead Stalker stepped over a cowering, skeletal woman. He didn't draw a blade. He raised a heavy, silver-salt containment rifle, the barrel humming with a sickly purple charge.

He then returned to Enzir and presented the box. Enzir slowly opened the box and looked inside. He was glad to see that the gray slug-like creatures were very much alive, but was immediately disgusted at the sight of the writhing animals drenched in their own slime. He looked away from the psylugs and shouted to his soldiers, "Get the Karbo ready." The soldiers looked at each other, seemingly at a loss on what they should do. Lankko turned to the soldiers and whispered, "The apparatus. You need to transform the apparatus. Quick!"

That was a task the general had assigned to himself. The cadets had no cyborgs of their own, the loyal Borges having been employed elsewhere, which meant that shoulder launched missiles (SLAMs) would have to do. Designed for use against Midvalian cyborgs, the SLAMs were the only effective weapons the cadets could use on Sentient armor. Morgan forced confidence into her voice. "Alpha One to Three... Hold them as long as you can and fall back. Four will cover your withdrawal. Over". Riob clicked the hand-held mike two types by way of a reply. Morgan looked at Rycker. He grinned. "You're doing good, ma'am. Keep it up".

I threw myself on the ground, rolled to the side and pulled the trigger. The foremost soldier flew backwards, cracked the second with and Kael finished the third with a targeted shot from the hip. We were a perfect, deadly unit. The Commander and the junk collector. But the consortium did not give up. A shrill, disgusting summation the fight noise. It was a sound that let me freeze the blood in the veins. No ordinary troops floated down from the largest hole on the ceiling. A platform lowered, flanked by two huge three-meter Juggernaut-

Their belts carried restraints that hummed faintly with electricity, devices tuned to subdue entities not of human design. Rivera inspected them as though preparing for a war parade. “You’ve studied the footage. You’ve read the myths. This is not a drill. You will face claws, fire, and intelligence beyond any animal. You will not underestimate it.” One soldier raised a hand. “Permission to clarify, ma’am — are we fighting a dog, or a dragon?” Rivera’s eyes narrowed. “You’re fighting both. And you will win.” No one laughed. Behind the soldiers, engineers loaded specialized cages into cargo planes — steel woven with tungsten and inscriptions that gleamed faintly in the light. Ancient script ma

the computer voice droned. Four silver soldiers slid out from a nearby building. They didn’t walk—they rolled, fast, on wheels built into their feet. Their glass faces caught the starlight. “I’ve got them!” Raven shouted, leaping forward. Her arms, laced with gold wires, moved faster than thought. She didn’t stab—she just pressed a hand to the first soldier’s chest. The silver armor melted away, spilling off like water. Underneath was a guy in a t-shirt, blinking in shock.

Everyone got silent as a man she saw that Matt followed behind, he climbed up on the makeshift stage and gave a speech. “Thank you, everyone for coming tonight for this occasion. As all know the evening will start with promoting ranks of soldiers who earned and were selfless and courageous in the battlefield. Soldiers who worked long and hard to earn the positions that are now to be given to them as in acknowledge and approval for all their hard work and actions they have done to protect us and our country and their brothers on the field.

“This is my moment to shine. Go forth, my soldiers.” Screech~ The soldiers that dwelled inside the darkness soon marched forward and assaulted all the enemies that they saw. “Kyaaaaaaa~” “Help~~~~” “I don’t want to die!!!” “No!!!” “Go away.” The HQ was in complete disarray. The number of corpses increased beyond what was calculated. Currently, there are 3000 thousand workers, 1000 soldiers, and 300 great soldiers. Great soldiers were the artifact holders who held a similar level of power to the talented mage. They could have served as Dionysus's sparring partners.

And higher still — ladders rising, carried by lines of soldiers chanting low, their voices inhumanly synchronised. Behind them, the warlocks. Hooded, faces hidden, their hands lifted in unison as they wove light into fire that burned not orange but silver-blue. Fire that ate stone as though it were flesh. The first bolt of it struck the outer wall. Stone screamed. The Guild flinched as shards sprayed across the battlements. One soldier vomited, bile mixing with blood on the floor. “Steady!” Killian’s voice cut across the panic, sharp enough to slice through fear. “Hold the wall. They bleed like men — make them prove it.”