Novel & Cerita Urban Soldier

This day and age when someone says an army they think professional soldiers, fighting and killing is their bread and butter, it's what they train for, it's what they're paid for. Their job consists of nothing besides honing those skills. Training and searching for a way to improve upon the ability to kill, to take the life of another human being. But there's times where an army consists of ordinary people, every day people. Bakers, smiths, teachers, sometimes even the students, people you who have never seen combat, mix these people in with some trained soldiers who're willing to advise and educate these people, and at times these armies can be just as dangerous as the professional ones. Whe

“Someone whose brother was in the army told my friend that they only ate canned beans and then she told me.” He shook his head, still smiling. “That’s not true. It’s just one of the stories soldiers tell people to make the army sound dramatic and intense.” “Are you sure?” “I’m positive. Being in the army doesn’t mean you eat only beans. They need proper nutrients too.” I nodded thoughtfully. “Well… that makes sense.” I hesitated. “If you don’t mind me asking… What unit were you in?” “I was in the 1st SFOD-Delta.”

“I’ll keep a dozen guards around me at all times.” “Two dozen,” she insisted. He chuckled and kissed her again. “Two dozen, it is.” And so we waited for Yasmin to change into a walking dress and for someone to find and retrieve Urban, who’d snuck off to watch the soldiers train as well as help instruct their progress, even though he’d been forbidden to lift a sword. When he finally strode up to meet us, something in my chest loosened, glad to see he was alive and okay with my own eyes.

A whistle sounded ten zhang away, and the squad on standby moved out. Nearby residents had hidden inside their homes after the announcement, leaving the entire area terrifyingly silent. The closest person to her was a young soldier. His posture gripping the gun clearly marked him as a rookie, his nervous face showing an eagerness to take risks and earn merit. She had heard his enthusiastic self-introduction when they collected their gear; he had reported for duty only a week before her. The slums were the city's blind spot, and even more so, a giant garbage dump filled with all manner of refuse.

Jagged metal bit into my jacket. I pulled my knees to my chest. Made myself small. Stopped breathing. Through the gaps in the rusted casing, I saw them. Two armored personnel carriers, painted the stark, terrifying white of the Obsidian Citadel, crushed the debris piles I had just been standing on. They ground to a halt fifty yards away. The back ramps hissed open—a release of pressurized air that smelled of ozone. Soldiers poured out. Uruks. The Soldier Caste. They were massive. Arms thick with muscle and encased in standard-issue iron-weave armor. I saw the bronze armbands glinting in the twilight. They didn't move like men; they moved like predators. Heavy. Too fast. Wrong.

“I could put in a good word for you.” “Wouldn’t matter,” Eric says sharply. “Your daddy only picks the youngest, strongest soldiers to protect the palace. I’ve aged out of consideration.” “At least you’ve seen real action,” the other soldier says. “My dad used to tell me about the glory days of the army. About the wars we used to fight. I joined up because I thought I could be something. All we do now is patrol the border and make sure no rogues get in.” “We shootin’ the shit?” another soldier asks, carrying the carcass of a wild boar.

Scattered around the destroyed hovertanks were power armored soldiers. Or at least, parts of them. Some had been blasted to pieces with such force that their heads or arms or legs were flung far across the city itself. And then there were the regularly armored combatants - the common soldiers. Usually, the kind that was conscripted or enlisted. They had taken the brunt of enemy weapons fire, and were brutalized to such a degree that many were mangled beyond identification. Their limbs had been blasted to shred and torn away. Their chests had been ripped or burnt or blasted wide open. Their guts and their brains intermingled openly on the streets, and swam in the blood of countless others.

As she strolled eastward, facing the warm sun, the distant sound of men and boots pounding the ground caught her attention. Curiosity piqued, she followed the noise, leading her to a vast training ground. Callie’s eyes widened as she took in the sight before her—nearly a hundred soldiers, clad in military training gear, engaged in close-quarters combat training. The intensity and discipline on display left her stunned and impressed. The sun shone down on their sweat-drenched faces, their shirts soaked through from their rigorous training. Their skin bore a uniform shade of deep tan, a testament to the countless hours spent under the scorching sun.

A soldier from the Riverdale pack—my pack. As a child, I harbored a small crush on him. I couldn’t believe he was amongst the soldiers who’d been forcefully torn away from their families and friends and brought here, into this foreign land. “Brian, it’s good to see you.” I said, offering a small smile. A look of surprise crossed his features. “I didn’t think you knew my name,” “The youngest ever soldier to be recruited and also one of the best in the pack, of course I'll recall your name.”

The Attack of the Cyber Soldiers Ayesha barely had time to react before the first tank shattered. Glass exploded across the room, ice and mist spilling onto the floor. A man stepped forward. Or rather—something that used to be a man. His skin was pale, almost metallic. Wires ran along his arms, disappearing into his spine. His eyes glowed red. Then, with inhuman speed, he lunged. Adrian barely dodged as the soldier swung a metal fist, denting the steel wall. Leena fired two bullets into his chest. The soldier didn’t even flinch.