All Chapters of Achilles: The Warlord Emperor: Chapter 351
- Chapter 360
377 chapters
351: First Wave
“Then we move faster,” Achilles chimed in. His gaze swept the rooftops and alleys again: “They think we’re reacting. They don’t know we planned this. Always three moves ahead.”Margaret moved closer: “Achilles, what about the civilians? They’re just walking through this street. Kids, vendors…”He exhaled slowly: “We use precision. Minimal disruption. They trust us to protect them; that’s leverage. The Sombra won’t be able to hide behind innocents for long.”The Faithfuls nodded. They had trained for this. Everyone trusted Achilles’ instincts.Minutes later, the group arrived at the warehouse that the intel had identified. It was heavily guarded, but Achilles had already mapped the approach in his head. A single entrance, two guards at the perimeter, another on the roof. Nothing he hadn’t handled before.He crouched behind a stack of crates: “He went top left. Rachael, you’re with me. George, cover the right flank. Dora, take the rooftop.
352: Shadows Of Medallin
The streets of Medellín were quiet, almost too quiet. General Achiles Hector crouched behind a stack of crates, surveying the warehouse yard. His eyes moved like a hawk, catching every shadow, every flicker of movement. The Sombra Syndicate had made their presence known, and Achilles was ready.Gabrielle, though young, stayed close to Margaret. Margaret’s hand never left hers, grounding the girl, keeping her safe while Achilles prepared. The Faithfuls fanned out around the perimeter; Dora to the north, Rachael covering the west flank, George moving inside to secure entry points. Every move was calculated. Every breath purposeful.“They’re here,” George whispered into his comm: “Two vans pulled up five minutes ago. Armed men everywhere.”Achilles’ jaw tightened. He didn’t panic. He hardly did. Instead, he noted the angles, the positions, the cover points. His mind ran the possibilities. A frontal assault? Too risky. Flank? Perfect. He pointed silently to Ge
353: Fire In Medellin
The rain had stopped, leaving the streets of Medellín slick and gleaming under the yellow streetlights. Achilles crouched behind a rusted van, his eyes on the narrow alley where the Sombra Syndicate had set up their temporary operations. The city smelled of wet concrete, gasoline, and fear.He adjusted the strap of his tactical vest, checking the magazines in his pistol and rifle. His team, the Faithfuls, fanned out silently, mirroring his movements. Each step was intentional. There was no panic, no hesitation. Achilles didn’t act first; he acted smart.“Targets are moving,” whispered Rachael, pointing to a group of armed men loading crates into a black SUV: “Looks like they’re moving the shipments earlier than expected.”Achilles nodded with swiftness: “They’ve been tipped off. Someone wants this operation gone tonight.” He glanced at Gabrielle, who had stayed hidden in a safe house two blocks away, and Margaret, who was coordinating with local authoritie
354: Night Strike At Medallin
The night in Medellín was alive with the hum of the city, but for General Achilles Hector, nothing felt normal. Streetlights cast long shadows on the crumbling buildings, and the air smelled faintly of gasoline and wet asphalt.He crouched behind a rusted delivery truck, his eyes on the narrow alley ahead. Gabrielle was at his side, leaning close to him, her small hand gripping his. Margaret stood a few feet back, alert, gun in hand, every muscle coiled for movement. The Faithfuls were spread out around the perimeter, covering exits, their weapons trained on the streets.“This place is crawling tonight,” George muttered, whispering into his comm: “Sombra won’t wait long.”Achilles nodded, eyes narrowing: “They’re bold. They think the disappearance of Hector’s last strike in Bogotá was luck. It wasn’t. And they’re going to regret underestimating us.”A sudden noise; metal scraping against concrete, made Gabrielle jump. Achilles instinctively put hi
355: “I've Got This”
The remaining Sombra operatives hesitated. Achilles didn’t wait. He moved with precision, each step precise. Shots rang, bodies dropped. Margaret and the Faithfuls swept in from their positions, clearing the alley in minutes.Gabrielle let out a shaky breath: “Daddy…that was…wow.”Achilles gave her a small smile: “Stay behind me. That’s all I need from you right now.”They moved forward, entering the warehouse. The place was dark, shelves of stolen electronics and contraband stacked high. Achilles’ instincts screamed that Sombra wasn’t finished. He was right.From the shadows, more men emerged. A trap. Achilles didn’t hesitate. He flipped a table, knocking two attackers off balance, and fired controlled rounds at another three moving in. The Faithfuls followed his lead, sweeping systematically. Every movement measured. Every decision decisive. The enemy had thought they could overwhelm him. They had thought wrong.A scream echoed from the
356: Never Underestimate The General
A heavy downpour descended on the dark street of Medellín. Achilles crouched behind the rusted container, eyes on the dimly lit yard. Every shadow, every movement, every flicker of light mattered. The Sombra Syndicate had been relentless. Their smuggling routes weren’t just criminal; they were weaponized. And tonight, Achilles had a target: a warehouse packed with explosives meant for an attack on a civilian district.“General, the west perimeter is clear,” George whispered, his voice low, almost swallowed by the rain.Achilles nodded, barely moving. He could hear the faint echo of footsteps inside the compound. Sombra men were moving crates, checking their watches, whispering commands. But they were sloppy. Overconfident. They didn’t expect him to already be inside their plan, reading their movements like an open book.“Faithfuls, stick close. Pumpkin and Margaret are secure. No risks,” Achilles murmured. His hand rested on his weapon, but his mind was several steps ahead.He counted
357: A Spark For More Storm
The jungle air was heavy with the scent of wet earth and gunpowder. Rain had begun falling again, drumming on the corrugated roofs of the abandoned village where the Sombra Syndicate had set up their new base. Achilles behind a fallen tree, observing the perimeter through the high-powered scope of his rifle. Each shadow, each movement, told him a story the others couldn’t see.He wasn’t just a soldier. He was a predator in his element, smart, predicting. Every angle, every patrol pattern, every weak point in the syndicate’s defenses was already mapped in his mind. His men, the Faithfuls, moved silently behind him, their weapons ready but trusting his lead completely.“Perimeter clear… for now,” George muttered, lowering his rifle.Achilles nodded, keeping his eyes focused: “Stay sharp. They know we’re coming. The Sombra dogs never sleep.”Margaret leaned beside him, also watching a nearby ridge with binoculars: “Any sign of Gabrielle?” she asked q
358: Someone Dangerous
Rain lashed the narrow path, turning the dirt into slick mud. Achilles was behind a broken wall of concrete, observing the treeline. Every leaf, every shadow, every movement told a story. His Faithfuls spread out, silent and deadly, trusting his signals without question.Gabrielle, bundled in a poncho, clung to Margaret’s side: “Daddy, are they close?” she asked, voice trembling.“They’re close,” Achilles said, voice low but firm: “But we’re closer.” He adjusted the strap of his rifle and scanned the horizon. The Sombra Syndicate had been tracking them for days. Tonight, they would strike; but Achilles had been waiting for this moment.From the treeline, faint rustling. A figure darted behind a tree, then two more. Achilles counted: five attackers moving in from the east, three from the west. Classic pincer. Predictable.“Faithfuls, split. West flank covers Gabrielle and Margaret,” he ordered, pointing toward the muddy path. His voice was calm, almost casual, but the words carried wei
359: “Hector Knows We're Here”
Rain lashed the narrow jungle path, turning the dirt into slick mud. Achilles crouched behind a broken wall of concrete, eyes scanning the treeline. Every leaf, every shadow, every movement told a story. His Faithfuls spread out, silent and deadly, trusting his signals without question.Gabrielle, bundled in a poncho, clung to Margaret’s side. “Daddy, are they close?” she asked, voice trembling.“They’re close,” Achilles said, voice low but firm. “But we’re closer.” He adjusted the strap of his rifle and scanned the horizon. The Sombra Syndicate had been tracking them for days. Tonight, they would strike—but Achilles had been waiting for this moment.From the treeline, faint rustling. A figure darted behind a tree, then two more. Achilles counted: five attackers moving in from the east, three from the west. Classic pincer. Predictable.“Faithfuls, split. West flank covers Gabrielle and Margaret,” he ordered, pointing toward the muddy path. His voice calm, almost casual, but the words
360: A Fight To Remember
The rain had stopped, but the jungle was still slick, dripping, and alive with sound. Achilles rested behind a fallen tree, scanning the clearing ahead. His eyes flicked across the moss-covered ground, noting every footprint, every broken branch. Someone was out there, watching. He could feel it.“General,” Rachael whispered beside him, voice low but tense. “We’re surrounded. Sensors picked movement from the east and west. Multiple squads—at least thirty men.”Achilles calmly maintained contact with her. He adjusted the strap of his rifle and smiled faintly: “Good. Let them come. They’ll see why we’re called the Faithfuls.”Anthony, moved beside him, shook his head: “You make it sound easy, Warlord. It’s not.”“I don’t need easy, Investigator,” Achilles said: “I need effective. We strike first, and we control this jungle.”Gabrielle had been moved to a small secure site nearby with Margaret. They were safe for now, but Achilles’ jaw tightened thinking about them. Every plan he made, e