Harem Legion: Queens of the Apocalypse-Chapter 61 Your Guns Can’t Save You

"Know why?"

"No."

Magnus took off his bulletproof helmet and stood at the doorway, calm as ever. All around him, black gun barrels pointed right at his head.

Ryan paced slowly in the living room. A soldier came over and lit a cigarette for him. He took a drag, nodded, and said, "Not bad. Got guts. Shame, really."

"Then tell me straight. Why?" Magnus asked, breathing in deep, not flinching in the face of all that firepower. He slowly pulled a soft pack of Zhonghua out from his pocket. The soldiers tensed, fingers twitching on triggers. Magnus ignored them, lighting a cigarette on his own.

"Alright. You’ve earned a straight answer," Ryan said with a nod. "But guts only get you so far. Makes you a decent soldier, not a general. I don’t know who gave you that code - "

"Oliver," Magnus cut in, puffing smoke. "Assuming he told me the truth."

Ryan laughed, loud and rough. "So it was Oliver..."

That laugh told Magnus the name checked out. His trap just caught another clue.

Ryan went on, "It’s not hard to figure out, really. Just think. A top-clearance command code? There’s no way Oliver would’ve had that. It’s too sensitive. You should’ve seen through it."

Magnus stayed quiet, smoking, head lowered. He had doubted it too - but after seeing that little notebook, he’d been sure. Now, he realized it wasn’t meant for avenging Cliff - it was a final move against whoever killed Oliver. One last spiteful trick.

Fine. Just a wasted afternoon. Still, he rescued seven people and grabbed three truckloads of food and water. Not a bad haul.

He nodded, piecing it together in his head. Then, out of nowhere, he looked straight at Ryan. "Let me ask you this - have you ever wondered how I, alone, managed to take Oliver?"

"You went in alone?" Ryan’s face darkened. The room tensed, grips tightening around rifles. One word and it’d turn into a slaughterhouse.

But Ryan shook his head. "Impossible. Unless Oliver was completely alone!"

"Then," Magnus pressed, eyes locked on Ryan, "hasn’t it struck you as odd? How did I even make it to your front door... and knock?"

Ryan’s face sank. His voice dropped. "How did you do it?"

Getting past sentries was one thing. But out there, in the wilderness, were hordes of apocalyptic beasts. One man taking all that on, avoiding these guards? It didn’t add up.

Magnus knew the game had shifted. Time to change tactics. He had to make them fear him. Enough smoke and mirrors, and they’d start believing he was something else - God, a demon, or maybe a mech warrior from the future.

Didn’t matter. As long as they feared him deep in their bones. No hesitation. No resistance.

"Time to give you a little taste," he said flatly. "So when I speak, none of you think I’m joking."

Without warning, Magnus snapped into motion - his right leg whipped out in a sharp side kick, heel slamming straight into the jaw of the sentry beside him.

At the same moment, over a dozen rifles aimed at him roared to life. He didn’t even flinch. Calm as ever, he crouched down slowly and picked up the automatic rifle from the floored soldier, flicking off the safety.

The closest few sentries froze - not from wounds, but from shock. After a few rattled shots, they instinctively rubbed their eyes, only to find the cold barrel of Magnus’ weapon already facing them. Too late for any shout - he pulled the trigger without hesitation.

That opening move ended with four bodies on the floor.

Magnus turned his head, scanning the roomful of eight officers. Every one of them had backed off, horrified, eyes wide like they’d just seen a ghost.

How was that possible? What kind of monster...?

"Now do you believe me?" Magnus said, voice calm, steady.

From outside, footsteps pounded up the stairwell; the soldiers had heard the gunfire. Inside, Magnus shot a glance at one officer, who didn’t get the message.

A loud bang followed - the crack of a gun, and a bullet tore through the man’s neck. Blood sprayed like a fountain before he even realized he’d been shot, collapsing to the floor as red splashed across Ryan’s face and uniform.

The noise outside grew louder. Another gunshot rang out, and the door came under fire - soldiers were shooting at the lock, kicking at the entrance.

Magnus turned to look at Ryan. The officer stayed composed, mostly - but still couldn’t help swallowing hard under that suffocating pressure. He stepped forward, head high, and called out toward the door, "It’s under control in here! Everyone stand down and return to quarters!"

Hearing their commander, the soldiers at the door stiffened to attention. "Yes, sir!" they shouted, but none moved; not one returned to sleep. They waited quietly in the hallway, tense, ready.

"...Who are you? What do you want from us?" Ryan asked. Sweat was beading at his forehead now. His heartbeat was pounding, but he did his best to stand tall, meeting Magnus’ gaze directly.

"I need a favor," Magnus said simply.

He walked straight to the dining table in the center of the room and sat down like he owned the place. Ryan stood by the door, unrestrained, unguarded - he could’ve walked out any second. But Magnus didn’t threaten them, didn’t even bark a warning.

That made them even more uneasy.

Ryan hesitated, then followed, taking a seat across from him. The six surviving officers gathered around too, nervously.

Magnus glanced at his right thumb. The golden aura had already receded one knuckle down - that meant only a third of the Metal Crystal’s shielding time remained. Two joints more. Roughly two hours. He had to finish this fast.

"I want your troop data. Manpower. Weapons. Food. Water. All of it. Now."

All eyes turned to Ryan. Letting out a small sigh, he finally nodded. One officer quickly placed a report in Magnus’ hand.

He skimmed through. As of three hours ago, the unit had 1,606 members left. Food and water supplies could last three more days. The lists of ammo, vehicles, gear... he only gave them a passing glance. Too tempting - nothing he could use right now anyway.

Twenty minutes later, Magnus had finished explaining the meteor excavation task and the precautions involved to the seven officers. But even as he spoke, their subtle facial reactions caught his awareness - and a sudden realization struck.

At that exact moment, Ryan slid his right hand into his pocket without drawing attention. He pulled out a Crystal - clenching it tight in his palm behind his back, eyes locked elsewhere - and suddenly gritted his teeth, squeezing the shard hard.