The Return of the Cannon Fodder Trillion Heiress - Chapter 786

Chapter 786: Chapter 786 He’s Been Found
Before the sniper could respond, a grenade landed dangerously close to Hera’s position. One of the squad captains spotted it just in time. “Get down!” he shouted.

Hera dove to the side and rolled hard, heart pounding as debris and shrapnel exploded nearby. She scrambled behind cover, breaths ragged, trying to steady herself while bullets ripped through the foliage around her.

One of them grazed her arm—enough to sting through the body suit. It didn’t break skin, but the impact would definitely leave a bruise.

And while her name trended online for rumors and speculation, Hera was out here fighting to survive.

“Have you found him?!” Hera almost shouted into the comms, her voice tinged with anxiety. Her team was doing everything they could to locate their extraction target, but it was clear they could no longer avoid a direct confrontation.

They were forced to return fire. Two men from the opposing side dropped, lifeless, but Hera barely spared them a thought. Her mind was consumed with worry for Leo.

The longer she went without seeing him safe, the more her heart felt like it was hanging over a pit of boiling lava. The sensation was suffocating, making her feel both restless and terrified.

“Young Miss, not yet, but we’ve already sent more people out to search for him! We’ve also received reports that even the team above is doing everything they can to locate our extraction target.” One of the captains from Groups 1 to 3 responded to Hera.

As they spoke, the team moved swiftly through the chaos. From the enemy’s perspective, it might have appeared as though they were overwhelmed and attempting to retreat to regroup.

In reality, they had simply left the fighting to the main group, knowing that their elite team could easily handle the opposing forces—who, in truth, were nowhere near a match for their skill level.

Sure enough, their enemies fired wildly, hoping to scare them and maybe land a hit with their 1,200 rounds of ammunition. However, their shots were all off the mark.

On Hera’s side, though, they rarely fired, but when they did, each shot found its target—whether it was a head, a leg, or a shoulder—before they delivered the killing blow.

Hera didn’t stay idle. She returned fire, aiming for the enemy’s arms, shoulders, or legs—targeting the areas that would disable them and stop their shooting. Whether her team chose to finish off the ones she had shot was up to them.

It wasn’t that she feared killing; after all, her first kill had been when she snapped someone’s neck earlier. Initially, she thought taking a life would be terrifying, no matter how scummy the person was.

But surprisingly, it didn’t affect her mentality. Or perhaps it was because Leo’s safety consumed her thoughts entirely, leaving no room for anything else. Either way, she did what needed to be done.

She wasn’t the type to dwell on morality in the heat of battle. She adapted to her surroundings, and in this world, survival was the only rule—kill or be killed. These mafia men came with the intent to kill first.

Hesitating over getting blood on her hands now was as pointless as debating whether she wanted to live when a barrel was already pointed at her head. Hera wasn’t like those female leads from novels who prided themselves on being paragons of virtue, always compromising and overthinking morality.

She was a realist. Everything she had done up until now—manipulating people, scheming, and fighting for her and her family’s survival—had been necessary. If she stopped to dwell on past actions or questioned her choices now, wouldn’t that just make her a hypocrite?

Hera pressed on, her focus unwavering as she continuously checked in with the scouting team searching for Leo. Meanwhile, she and the main team kept up a relentless return fire, doing their best to contain the threat from the opposing side. Then, suddenly, an excited shout crackled through the comms.

“Found him! Young Miss, we found him!” The voice of the scout from Team 2 crackled through the comms, urgent and relieved. “He’s huddled with a group by the gap of a large tree, south of our position—about 500 meters off the target location. Looks like they passed out while trying to escape. There are four of them. It was our sniper team captain who spotted an anomaly from his vantage point, and we followed the lead.”

The scout’s voice faded as they moved to check the condition of the group, and Hera’s heart froze in her chest, her nerves stretched tight as she waited for the report.

On the other side, the main team shifted into high gear, their energy surging as they realized the extraction target was no longer in immediate danger.

Earlier, they’d been holding back, careful not to fire too aggressively in case they accidentally hit their extraction target, who might have been hiding nearby. But now, knowing the target was safely with the scouting team, they no longer needed to be cautious.

They swiftly reloaded their weapons, slamming fresh magazines into their guns, and pushed themselves off the ground, ready to move forward with renewed urgency.

Bang… Bang… Bang…

Gunfire echoed through the forest in sharp bursts, followed by the pained groans of their enemies. Hera’s team was crouched low behind trees, executing precise, coordinated movements.

Each time they peeked out, they took only a second to confirm their targets—then rolled, ducked, and shot with lethal accuracy. Once they took someone down, they moved again, never lingering in one spot, their movements a rhythm of deadly efficiency.

Hera joined the fray, gripping a Desert Eagle in each hand. Her fingers moved on instinct—aim, shoot, duck, roll. She shrank behind the thick trunk of a tree whenever bullets whizzed past her. If not for her reinforced bodysuit, she would have been shredded by the near-misses.

This was her first real gunfight. She wasn’t perfect—far from it—but she was surviving. And that alone was a victory. Most people’s first gunfight ended in panic, injury, or worse.

The fear, the adrenaline, the sound of bullets tearing through the air—it would all be etched into their memory, the start of a trauma that might never fully fade.

But Hera? She wasn’t burdening herself with guilt or moral dilemmas. She didn’t believe this experience would leave her with PTSD. Despite her delicate appearance, she possessed an unshakable mental fortitude and remarkable adaptability. Even the seasoned veterans were taken aback by her performance today.

Sure, she had a solid martial arts foundation, but everyone knew a gunfight was an entirely different beast. Still, she held her own. Maybe it was the years of mental conditioning under Athena’s guidance that had honed her mindset to this level.

If this had been the original Hera from the novel—the one untouched by hardship—she would’ve likely broken down after taking a life. Depression, remorse, even trauma would have consumed her. But this Hera had already walked through fire. And now, she wasn’t just surviving—she was evolving.

Thanks to the excellent marksmanship of Hera’s team, the gunfight ended shortly after. Once the gunfire died down, the nearest unit advanced to assess the situation. From the earlier stealth attacks, they managed to capture only three prisoners—the rest had been neutralized with lethal precision.

The advancing team carefully confirmed each enemy was truly dead before collecting their communication devices, intending to send them back for analysis. With luck, they might trace the signals and pinpoint the enemies’ base of operations. They also gathered the enemy’s weapons and supplies.

While some stripped the bodies for useful gear, others began scouting for a discreet spot to dig—a place to bury the dead and ensure no trace remained for enemy reinforcements to find when they inevitably came looking.

Seeing her team move with such coordination, Hera felt a wave of reassurance—she didn’t need to give orders. They were all professionals, seasoned and experienced enough to know exactly what needed to be done. While the rest handled cleanup and logistics, Hera, accompanied by a few others for protection, made her way toward Leo’s location.

By the time she arrived, the medics were already on-site, assessing Leo’s condition. Two of them were crouched beside him, carefully securing him onto a foldable stretcher they had brought along. These medics had been with the scout team from the very beginning and hadn’t left their side since.

Then, the medic looked up at Hera with a grim expression.”Young Miss, we need to get them to the hospital immediately. They’re in critical condition—especially the extraction target. He’s lost a significant amount of blood and has sustained severe internal injuries. We’ll need to operate on him right away and run a full set of diagnostics. His life is hanging by a thread.”

Although the medic spoke gently, trying not to alarm her, the weight of his words still hit Hera hard. Fear tightened in her chest despite his calm delivery.

The thought that Leo might die hit her like a derailed train, sending a wave of cold dread crashing through her body. It felt as if she’d been plunged into the depths of an icy lake, her ears ringing, her chest tightening—but even then, Hera knew what mattered most.

She shoved aside the panic and fear clawing at her heart and quickly pressed the button on her collar.

“Cindy, over. Cindy!”

“Yes, Young Miss. At your service,” came the immediate reply, the chopper’s rotor blades still audible in the background.

“Cindy, we need a chopper—ASAP! Leo’s critical, we have to get him to the hospital now. Please make the arrangements!” Hera’s voice was sharp with urgency as she waved her hand, signaling the others to start moving.

Without hesitation, they turned back, heading for the designated landing zone where they had been dropped off, praying the chopper would arrive in time.

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PS: Thank you as always, Marlene_Parker, for the golden ticket!!!