Victorious Athea: My Gacha Luck Decides Humanity’s Fate

John's black eyes were fixated on the swarm of big Hybrids. His mind raced as he assessed the situation. Five massive melee variants, their sharp and deadly claws formed the front line. 

Behind them, an explosive Hybrid clicked menacingly, its body primed for destruction. And then, the sniper—an ominous silhouette on a nearby perch, watching from a distance.

"Commander, what should we do next?" Irish asked, her voice tight with nervousness. She had never seen a group this large or intimidating before.

John's gaze remained focused, his mind working quickly. He could feel the pressure mounting, but his resolve only strengthened.

"Relax," he said in a low voice, the words calm but firm. "We're going to face even worse ones soon. For now, Irish, focus fire on the Explosive one."

John began to slowly move backward, still maintaining the formation, his rifle ready. His eyes flicked between his squad members, ensuring they were in position. 

The Hybrids were closing in, and it was clear that the battle wouldn't be easy. But he had already mapped out their best chance of survival.

"Irish, keep your shots precise. That Explosive Hybrid will cause chaos if it gets too close. Vera, Nova—cover the flanks. Don't let anything get past us."

John continued, his tone unwavering. The strategy was simple but necessary. The explosive Hybrid had to go down first. If they didn't eliminate it, the entire squad could be wiped out in one catastrophic blast.

His heart raced, but his mind remained clear. Every step, every command, had to count. The Hybrid swarm was moving fast, but John had already taken the initiative. He had to act before they lost control.

The Hybrids were getting closer now, their grotesque forms lumbering toward them with heavy steps. 

The explosive one in the back was getting ready to rush, its body humming with the telltale energy of an imminent explosion.

"Irish, fire!" John commanded sharply, his eyes never leaving the explosive Hybrid.

But she hesitated. The fear was obvious in her eyes. She hadn't fired.

"Tch, such incompetence," he muttered under his breath, frustrated. Without wasting a second, John rushed to her position, his movements precise and efficient. 

In one fluid motion, he adjusted her grip on the weapon, forcing her hand into place. Then, without waiting for her response, he pressed the trigger for her.

Bang!

The shot rang out, sharp and precise, and hit the Explosive Hybrid square in its core. The impact was immediate—an intense flash followed by the Hybrid's body convulsing violently. 

The knockback from the Athea weapon was immense, and John felt the burn of the recoil jolt through his own body. Pain shot up his arm, but he didn't flinch. He had no time to dwell on it.

"Focus," he muttered to himself.

Without skipping a beat, he was already barking out his next command.

"Nova, duck and shoot the ranged one in the core!"

Nova, quick as ever, dropped low, her pistol raised. She aimed with deadly accuracy, the sharp crack of her gun splitting the air as she fired at the sniper Hybrid, a well-placed shot targeting its exposed core. 

The Hybrid let out a screech, staggering back as its armored plating sparked and cracked. But it was still standing.

"Vera, on the move!" John shouted, his tone urgent.

Vera, sensing the shift in command, was already rushing forward with her shotgun raised. She fired at the first of the melee Hybrids as it charged, the blast sending it reeling back. It wasn't enough to take it down, but it bought them precious time.

The Hybrids were closing in fast, but John kept his focus. Each command was delivered with pinpoint precision, keeping his team in formation, and maintaining control. 

They had a chance—but only if they kept moving, kept firing, and kept working together.

John gritted his teeth as he gripped his rifle again. The pain from the recoil still lingered, but it was nothing compared to the pressure of the battle. 

He wasn't about to let it stop him now. The "John" of this world was a decent marksman, and those skills, honed in another life, flowed naturally through him. His hands were steady, his aim sharp.

With a deep breath, he unleashed a controlled burst of fire, the rifle's roar cutting through the chaos as he supported his Athea. 

Each round hit its mark, forcing back one of the melee Hybrids that was about to close the distance on Vera. The power of the Athea weapons was staggering, and the Hybrids didn't stand a chance against their precision and force.

"Irish, help Vera with the melee one!" John ordered without hesitation.

"Yes, Commander John!" Irish responded, her fear melting into determination. She immediately adjusted her stance, moving alongside Vera to provide backup. 

The two Athea combined their firepower, focusing their efforts on the vicious melee Hybrid that had been relentlessly charging toward Vera.

The creature's pincer-like arms slashed through the air, but with Irish's machine gun and Vera's shotgun fire combined, the Hybrid was overwhelmed. 

The blast from Vera's weapon finally took it down, but not before it managed to land a glancing blow on Vera's arm.

John's eyes narrowed as he saw the injury. His jaw clenched. It wasn't fatal, but it could slow them down.

"Vera, are you good?" John asked, his voice sharp.

"I'm fine. It's nothing, commander," Vera gritted out, though the artificial blood dripping from her arm told another story. But there was no time to dwell on it.

"Good," John said. "Keep moving!"

With that, he turned his attention back to the rest of the Hybrids. There was still work to be done, and they couldn't afford to stop. 

The sniper Hybrid was still active, and the explosive one was closing in again, its body trembling with volatile energy.

"We've pushed through this wave," John muttered, his voice low but filled with relief. The tension in his chest eased slightly, but it wasn't over yet.

He scanned the remaining Hybrids—there were still three left. The explosive Hybrid was lingering at the back, twitching with energy.

Its volatile core was ready to detonate at any moment, and it was only a matter of time before it decided to launch itself into the fray.

"Nova, keep your eyes on that explosive one!" John snapped, his tone sharp. "Don't let it get any closer to us!"

"Got it!" Nova responded quickly, her pistol aimed directly at the Hybrid, her focus unwavering. She fired rapidly, each shot aimed at the Hybrid's core.

John didn't waste time. He moved in, directing Vera and Irish to cover their flanks as he focused on taking out the remaining melee Hybrids. The first one lunged at him with a savage roar, its claws swinging wildly, but John was ready.

He stepped to the side, using his rifle's stock to deflect its strike, and then fired point-blank into its core, the impact sending it crashing to the ground.

The second melee Hybrid was faster, but John's experience as a commander kicked in. He anticipated its moves and dodged, firing again to finish it off. Two down.

The explosive Hybrid, meanwhile, was still moving. Nova's shots were pushing it back, but it wasn't enough to stop it.

"Everyone, focus on the explosive Hybrid! Now!" John ordered, his eyes locking onto its pulsating core.

With a final coordinated effort, Irish and Vera closed the gap, unleashing their weapons.

Nova fired one more shot, and with a thunderous explosion, the Hybrid's core detonated, sending a shockwave through the battlefield.

For a moment, everything was still. The dust settled, and the only sound was the wind, carrying the scent of scorched metal and smoke.

"Hah, finally," John muttered under his breath, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. The adrenaline still surged through his veins, a sharp contrast to the cold, steady pulse of his heart. 

The battle had been grueling, but they had made it through. The last of the Hybrid corpses lay scattered around them, some still smoking faintly as the stench of burning flesh and scorched metal hung in the air. 

The immediate threat was over for now—but John knew better than to believe they were truly safe.

There would always be more. There were always more. The Hybrids seemed endless, a constant tide against which humanity could barely hold its ground. 

He cast a quick glance over his shoulder, checking the perimeter for any signs of movement, but for the moment, everything was still.

"Well, commander, you're more capable than we thought," Vera piped up, her voice bright despite the harsh conditions. 

She slapped him on the back, grinning up at him, her black hair sticking to her forehead in damp strands. 

Even though she was just an R-rank, a rather insignificant character in the grand scheme of things, there was a warmth in her praise that made John pause.

He smirked, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, well, I am indeed."

He uncapped a water bottle and took a long drink. The cool liquid was refreshing but didn't wash away the lingering bitterness. 

He could feel the weight of the task ahead still pressing on his shoulders, even if they had temporarily cleared the field. 

"Hm, commander, you're quite different from the others," Nova said, her voice soft as she tilted her head, scrutinizing him. 

She had been quiet for most of the fight, but now, her sharp gaze seemed to take in more than just the external battlefield.

John paused mid-drink, his eyes narrowing just slightly. "The others?" he asked.

Nova met his gaze, her eyes searching, as if trying to place him. "You don't act like them. The other commanders we've had before… they're all about the mission, the orders, and they despised the Athea."

He exhaled sharply, bitter humor curling the corners of his mouth. 

"I guess it comes with the upbringing. The slums... you learned real quick that surviving was a lot harder when you're at the bottom." 

He wasn't lying, though. This world's John did come from the lowest of lows. The memory traumatized him, and John remembered that much.

Vera's expression softened slightly, but she didn't push further. Instead, she nodded. "I can see that. So we all are the lowest in terms of power then."

Vera, ever the optimist, grinned. "Nah, we aren't. I bet if we keep this up, we'll be the best squad in Tevat. No one'll be able to stop us!"

John's lips quirked upward, though his eyes remained sharp and calculating. "Maybe. But let's focus on staying alive first. We're still in enemy territory, and it won't be long before more Hybrids show up."

Irish, who had been quietly observing the exchange, spoke up for the first time in a while. Her voice was low, almost uncertain. "What do we do now, Commander?"

John looked around, taking in the broken cityscape stretched out before them. The sun was already hidden far below the surface.

They were deep in enemy territory, and there was no telling what kind of horrors still lurked beyond their immediate vicinity.

"For now, let's take a breather while we can," John ordered, his tone firm but measured. 

"Regroup, reload, and stay sharp." He crouched near a charred piece of debris, pulling out a flask of water and taking a quick sip before passing it to Vera, who accepted it with a small nod of gratitude.

"But don't get too relaxed," he warned, his sharp gaze sweeping their surroundings. 

The ruins around them provided cover, but it was also the perfect setting for an ambush. "The Hybrids will come. It's only a matter of time."

 "Yes sir!"