Sharpies cleared out any humans that appeared within their line of sight. This was basic knowledge taught in the Coalition. Even the freshest recruits knew this.

Of course, they also occasionally disengage, particularly when surrounded and at a severe disadvantage. If their lives were at risk, they would attempt to escape the encirclement. Killing humans wasn’t their goal. They had their own mission.

This situation, however, was not a breakout. It was a completed clearing operation.

The two Sharpies had disengaged early because the battle was already in its final stages. They had judged that the one left behind was enough to finish off the last few members of Platoon 1123, so they went ahead.

There was no way to know whether the Sharpies had headed toward the trucks by sheer coincidence or if the noise of the engines had drawn their attention. Either way, the reason mattered little.

“Move! Now!” Zhang Dao’an ordered, voice catching in his throat. 

Activating his maneuvering device, he spun toward the mountain, but already wounded from the previous fight, he immediately tripped and fell flat on his face. He hastily got back up in a motion that was less an attempt to stand than a crawl. 

Before he could even fully right himself, he was scrambling forward on all fours again, tumbling and stumbling in a way completely uncharacteristic...