Chapter 378 05.0377: "Resistance"

"Ugh...hiss, my head hurts..."

After being unconscious for an unknown period of time, Anya Fasha slowly moved. The blood on her forehead flowed down, dyeing her deep brown eyes red, and then flowed down her pointed and slender chin, slowly dripping onto her flight jacket.

She took off her gloves to temporarily control the sticky wound and sat for a long time before regaining her sight, but the world in her eyes was still bloody and not clear.

Enduring the pain that felt like a thousand needles piercing her body, she unbuckled the seat belt that was tightly around her chest, fumbled to press the brake button to open the cockpit cover, and breathed in the air outside, which had a slight stench but was generally fresh. It was much better than the burnt smell of electronic instruments.

The female pilot tilted her head to take off the broken flight helmet, and casually put it on the crashed Skyhawk 1's cockpit. She slowly straightened her body, forcibly ignoring the needle-like pain and adapting to her current body.

Then, carrying the flight emergency landing bag, he slowly stepped on the emergency ladder on the side of the fuselage and landed on the ground covered with fallen leaves and broken branches.

"That's for sure. I saw a plane falling from a distance before."

"Are they the pseudo-emperor's lackeys who bully us?"

"It should be. If we find it, and if the pilot is still alive, we must make this guy understand the price of serving the false emperor."

From the bushes not far away came the Chaos rebels' conversation in Gothic mixed with their dialect. Anya Fasha quickly turned around, bent down, and crouched behind the machine to hide.

"Look, there's smoke!"

"Will, Dunpushi, you idiots, come back here, are you blind? Go and take a look over there!"

The sound of military boots crushing fallen leaves, the friction of guns against bulletproof armor and other miscellaneous objects, and the sound of violent curses were getting closer and closer.

Realizing that the crash site had been discovered, Fasha swung his numb legs again, his flight boots clattering on the grass, and he stumbled into the bushes nearby.

In her current physical condition, it would be impossible for her to outrun these Chaos rebel squads in good condition.

She hid under a tree that was big enough, knelt on one knee, opened her survival backpack and counted the items.

She soon found what she wanted, an assembled self-defense pistol, which was essentially a simplified and reduced-size silenced automatic gun with a folding buttstock.

It can be used for hunting and defense, uses solid ammunition and is used with a silencer, but the assembly steps are slightly complicated.

This was the first plane crash in the life of this ace pilot with thousands of flight hours.

The survival kit in the cabin, which had never been used, was replaced regularly over and over again. She would only remember that she had this thing on the plane when she signed the confirmation form.

Fasha held her breath, and with her hands shaking with pain and fear, she assembled the survival pistol with difficulty. She tried to squeeze her brain, recalling the techniques and methods she had taught in the past. After all, she almost never considered what would happen if she was shot down.

In other words, she didn't think she could survive being shot down and use these things.

Therefore, she usually did a casual job in her training of assembling firearms, and her movements at this time seemed too unfamiliar.

She had no time to think about the bitter regret in her heart, and her brain was thinking at full speed about how to assemble the silenced automatic rifle in front of her.

"Recoil spring...recoil spring...ah, here it is!"

As the search drew closer, her breathing quickened.

"The plane landed here! This thing is so big..."

"Where's the pilot?"

"Not in the cockpit! There's blood on the seat, he must have escaped!"

"Damn it, this guy can't get far. Search him!"

The rebel squad leader walked around the fuselage.

Suddenly, he found a spot of blood on the grass.

That was dripping from Anya Farsha’s bomber jacket.

When she was unconscious, many small puddles of blood accumulated in the folds of her flight suit. When she stood up, these drops of blood began to flow down the leather and zipper and landed on the grass.

The Mohawk-haired squad leader narrowed his eyes alertly, raised his hand, and signaled the two men beside him to keep silent, not to alert the enemy, and to follow him.

With clues in hand, these rebel soldiers are like sharks in the ocean, hunting for blood.

Even though the movements were slight, Anya Fasha, who was still assembling the pistol, still detected their movements with her keen ears.

At this critical moment, she finally assembled the survival pistol and inserted the 15-round magazine into the chamber. With a slight crisp sound, the bullet was loaded.

Her back was pressed against a tree that was thick enough to hide an Ogryn. She moved her feet slightly, bent over, and maintained an ambush posture.

pat!

One of the approaching rebel soldiers stepped on a branch, and the noise gave away his exact location.

Just as the man was about to attack from behind the tree, he was met head-on by the black muzzle of the female pilot's gun.

puff!
The slight sound was quickly absorbed by the layers of leaves and branches, and the corpse with a big head was supported by the female pilot with all her might, and then slowly laid on the ground without making any more unnecessary noise.

Just as Anya Fasha wanted to continue crouching and take the opportunity to escape, the alien bird above her head was startled by the sound and instinctively flew away. The bird's chirping and flapping caused a small commotion.

!

The female pilot and the two other rebels searching for her were instantly alerted.

Almost immediately, both parties moved at the same time.

"There it is! A corpse king's bitch! Don't let that thing get away!"

The violent and excited shouts echoed throughout the woods. Fasha stumbled and ran while firing at the rear to stop them.

The two sides used clusters of bushes to engage in a battle of pursuit and counter-pursuit.

She pushed aside the bushes and sprinted. Fortunately, she was tall and strong with long legs, so she could step over the low bushes that were in the way.

Suddenly, there was a rustling sound from the front, and the blasphemous mark on the exposed figure instantly caught her eye.

That was another search party.

"She's here! Get the bitch!"

The two sides just met each other, and Fasha was the first to react and immediately ran to the side.

More than a dozen people were chasing each other in the dense forest. How could she, whose body had not fully recovered, be a match for these rebels? While she was running, her calf twitched inappropriately, which was a precursor to cramps.

She hopped and hid behind a tree again.

Fasha leaned against the tree trunk, breathing heavily, and pulled the magazine from the gun to check the remaining ammunition.

4 rounds left.

She put the magazine back into the gun, gripped the gun tightly with both hands, and prepared for the final desperate struggle.

Military educational films have explained countless times how the rebels would cruelly treat captured pilots, so the Imperial Navy and the Ministry of Military Affairs would only encourage crashed pilots to kill a few more traitors or aliens when there was no hope of escape, and then save the last bullet for themselves.

He saw a figure approaching from the corner of his eye, and Fasha suddenly thrust out his gun barrel from behind the tree.

Snapped!
A small bloody hole instantly appeared on the forehead of the pursuing rebel soldier, and he fell into the dense bushes with a thud.

The female pilot tried to rely on this thick tree to engage in guerrilla warfare with the enemy and try her best to delay time.

clap clap!

After two shots, another enemy fell to the ground, and no enemies appeared around for the time being.

Out of consideration for subsequent battles, she moved closer to the corpses, ready to seize the rebels' guns and ammunition for emergency use. In this critical moment, she ignored the various prohibitions on seizure.

But as she bent over to touch the corpse, another rebel suddenly rushed out of the woods and the two of them collided violently.

The pistol, with only one bullet left, fell to the ground, but she was not unarmed.

On her belt hung an exquisitely beautiful dagger. The handle was decorated with ivory, pearls and gems, and the curve of the blade revealed a deadly beauty.

When Fasha stood up, he gripped the handle with his backhand, and the dagger was instantly unsheathed, revealing the wild gray blade and the warm and unrestrained Damascus steel texture.

That was Taran's characteristic short blade, her amulet.

(End of this chapter)