The roar of the main gun still echoed in his ears, but little Ruspel didn't hear any 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 loader's prone body at the bottom 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 a big deal. Maybe he would get a medal or some other reward.
For example, a beautiful house with a nest, or a farm with beautiful scenery.
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. After it was reactivated, it was blank black, filled with swirling blocks 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 signals expanded and pulsated across the screen, and he could make out the outlines of the wreckage, each one showing a thick outline under 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 and then silent, as if waiting for him to speak.
Little Ruspel licked his lips and suddenly realized that his mouth was very 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.
After a moment, a sweaty face looked up at him.
"Sir."
The gunner's voice became very hoarse, which may be related to his previous roaring for a long time.
"are you OK?"
"I am fine."
Little Ruspel nodded to the gunner.
"Others...?" he said.
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, I 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 that he could slide down into the bottom of the turret.
"Can you go check on the driver's seat?"
"I... think so."
The gunner began to crawl across the floor, empty shell casings rolling beneath him. Inch by inch, he was out of sight of little Ruspel.
Little Ruspel kept the microphone on while trying to maintain a rhythmic breathing, and time passed slowly.
"I have arrived."
The gunner was breathing hard.
"How are people?"
"Hold still, sir."
"Try to wake him."
"He...he passed out completely, sir."
"Fainted? Or dead?"
"The man is still alive, but his head is full of blood. Throne! There is blood on the console too. 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 pest came to life with a start-up tremor, as if a wounded beast began to pant.
"There should be a medical bag on the right side of the cab. You can bandage him."
"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.
A sense of relief filled him. He looked at his hands and glanced at the firelight still pouring in from the armored glass of the observation window, knowing that 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 casing.
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 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 viewing window and control lever, and it stuck to his hands when he held them.
He looked out through the front viewfinder. The enhanced display had reduced 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!"
The gunner's voice interrupted his concentration.
"Something is moving in the distance."
Looking at the augur and the microphone, I felt a chill in my heart. 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 died."
"We're lucky to be alive, yes."
"Has the enemy been eliminated?"
Before little Ruspel spoke, the brief silence told the truth.