I bring peace.

In the end, the twenty-two were split into four squads, each moving separately. After all, as a strike force, gathering so many people together would be far too conspicuous; once caught in a single net, all their efforts would be for naught. Naturally, dividing into several groups would increase their chances of success.

Of course, it was also possible that they simply didn’t want to stay around Jos, the walking human bomb.

Based on theoretical calculations, one kilogram of C4 could devastate an area of roughly fifty meters in radius, with a maximum lethal range against humans reaching up to four hundred meters. In summary, the effective killing range of a single kilogram of C4 was at least two hundred meters.

But what about more than a ton of C4?

No one had ever tried. Such a wild idea would never appear on a normal battlefield; after all, that much C4 would be a glaring target, not to mention the logistical challenges and practicality. The cost-effectiveness of actually deploying it was just too low.

Yet Jos had clearly stepped outside those boundaries. In the Marvel world, superhumans wielded extraordinary strength—even Hawkeye could lift the hood of a sedan. Carrying a ton of material was hardly an exaggeration for most of them.

The problem was, who would ever carry a ton of C4 explosives?

So when the proposal for dividing into groups was made, everyone unanimously agreed. The few who ended up in Jos’s squad couldn’t hide their sour expressions.

By coincidence, those assigned to Jos’s group were Scarface, the burly man; Simon, the sniper dwarf; and Oba Bull, the black, bald marksman with two guns.

“Come now, don’t look so grim. I know what you’re worried about, but have you considered the enemy is probably thinking the same thing?” Jos, noticing their expressions, decided it was time to speak up.

“What do you mean?” Scarface, who called himself Hercules but never gave his real name, asked, not caring much for formalities.

“Heh, if that much C4 detonates, nothing alive would remain within several kilometers. The enemy is afraid, too.” Before Jos could answer, Simon, who carried a sniper rifle and apparently had been one of the best marksmen at the last base, spoke up.

No one really knew who he’d offended to end up on a battlefield like this—snipers were notoriously hard to train.

“Thinking about it that way, we’re actually the safest, aren’t we?” Oba Bull, the black twin-gunslinger, flashed a wide, white grin, clearly unbothered by the situation.

“Well… that’s pretty much it. So you really don’t need to be so tense,” Jos said, giving a thumbs-up.

“You’re the least qualified to say that!” The three, who moments before had been getting along, immediately turned on Jos with curses.

…

On the second day after leaving the base, Jos and his companions made their way through the ruins of a small city not far from the battlefield.

Their route required them to pass through the city ruins and then detour over ten kilometers to reach their destination.

“Lord, grant peace to those who once lived here…” Contrary to his rough exterior, Scarface—whose real name was Hercules—wore an expression of profound sorrow as he surveyed the ruins, tracing a cross over his chest. He was, surprisingly, a devout Christian.

“Jesus doesn’t deal with this place. Egyptians would have to pray to their bird-headed gods,” Jos broke the mood without mercy, cheerfully ignoring the anger flickering across Hercules’ face.

As it turns out, provoking people could be addictive.

Regardless of Jos’s attitude toward Hercules’ gesture, the city before them was a tragic microcosm of countless lives destroyed by war.

Once, ordinary people lived here—people with dreams, love, jobs, families. But when war arrived, all of it was reduced to ashes in an instant.

In the silent ruins, the weight of this tragedy seemed to affect everyone; there was no conversation for a long time, until—

“Attention, there’s someone ahead.” Suddenly, Simon signaled to the group, then quickly took cover. The others followed suit, hiding themselves expertly.

Well, everyone except Jos; his backpack was so enormous he couldn’t possibly conceal himself.

“Damn it, how did they spot us? Never mind, attack! Go for it!” The reaction of Jos’s group was clearly unexpected by those lurking in the shadows. An angry voice barked out orders.

As the command rang out, Jos saw a group emerge from all directions, each brandishing a different type of firearm and surrounding him.

Though his companions hadn’t intentionally abandoned him, Jos’s massive backpack made him a conspicuous target—no one dared hide alongside him.

“Tch, I get the logic, but it still stings. Did my teammates just sell me out?” Jos clicked his tongue, then turned toward the source of the shouting. He saw a filthy, grim-looking man who appeared to be the leader.

None of this was unexpected. The area had long been occupied by a terror organization—information they had obtained beforehand.

Jos and his group had chosen this path to stage a feint, drawing attention here so their allies on another route could advance.

Similarly, others would later attract the enemy’s focus, but only if Jos’s group succeeded in passing through.

“Who dares enter here at a time like this? Who are you? Wait… what’s that behind you?” The leader, imposing and authoritative, barked his questions. Yet his gaze was ultimately drawn to Jos’s enormous backpack.

Jos shrugged in response, “We’re from the US military base. Is there a problem?”

“US military…?” The leader had clearly not expected Jos to admit it so readily, and was momentarily stunned. Then his eyes flashed with murderous intent. “A real tough guy, huh? All right, brothers, kill him!”

“As for your second question…”

Amid the chorus of guns being cocked around him, Jos showed not the slightest fear.

He casually set the backpack on the ground, producing a thunderous sound that struck terror into all present.

“Trust me, I bring peace,” Jos said with an innocent smile, opening the backpack and gesturing to the leader.

“All of you, put away your guns!” This time, the leader’s voice broke in fear.

See? One glance and the guns were holstered. Truly, peace had arrived.