My Lust System: I Inherited The Sin Of Lust And His Three Wives

Chapter 375: Civil War In Lebanon

The order echoed across the square.

"Fire!"

For a single heartbeat, nothing happened. The soldiers standing in the front line looked at one another. Their rifles remained raised, their fingers resting against their triggers, yet none of them fired. The thousands of civilians standing opposite them continued walking forward without slowing their pace. Men carried nothing but Lebanese flags. Women held photographs of Karim Haddad against their chests. Elderly men walked shoulder to shoulder with university students. Mothers marched with children at their sides.

None of them stopped.

The commander felt an unfamiliar chill crawl up his spine. This was wrong. Every protest he had crushed over the past twenty years had always ended the same way. A few warning shots, panic followed, and then they ran. Fear always won.

Today, fear had disappeared.

"FIRE!" he roared once more.

The hesitation lasted only another second before discipline prevailed.

Booom!

Hundreds of rifles erupted together. The first ranks of protesters were thrown backward as bullets tore through flesh. Blood splashed across the pavement. Bodies collapsed one after another.

Yet the square did not empty. Instead, people rushed toward the fallen.

Young men lifted the wounded onto their shoulders while doctors and nurses who had arrived carrying nothing but medical bags threw themselves onto the ground, desperately trying to stop the bleeding. Others picked up the bloodstained Lebanese flags and continued advancing from the exact spots where those before them had fallen.

Not one person turned around.

The commander stared in disbelief.

"What..."

His voice barely escaped his lips.

"They’re still coming," a soldier muttered in horror.

Another volley rang out and more civilians fell. But they kept coming. The chants never stopped.

"Justice!"

"Justice!"

"Justice!"

Each cry thundered louder than the gunfire itself. Inside nearby armored vehicles, Blood Dunes officers watched the live drone feeds with growing horror.

"They’ve broken through the first barricade."

"The eastern checkpoint has been surrounded."

"Southern district protesters are ignoring live ammunition."

"This... this isn’t normal."

One commander slammed both hands against the command table.

"Kill more of them! Use lethal force!"

Outside, the order spread through every radio. Machine guns opened fire while mortars exploded along nearby streets. Armored vehicles rolled into the crowds without slowing.

However, amid the chaos, things began to change.

After witnessing so many civilians die, uncertainty slowly spread among the soldiers.

A young private lowered his rifle.

"I can’t..."

Beside him, another soldier slowly stepped away from the firing line.

"They’re unarmed."

The officer supervising them turned with fury burning in his eyes.

"What are you doing?"

"They’re our people."

"They’re terrorists!"

"They’re civilians!"

Without another word, the officer drew his sidearm.

Bang!

The young private collapsed onto the pavement, a hole torn through his forehead. For a brief moment, complete silence surrounded that checkpoint. Every soldier stared at the dead body lying at their feet.

Their commander had just executed one of their own.

Above the clouds, seated upon his throne, a cruel smile spread across Damian’s lips. This was the tipping point he had been waiting for throughout the past few days of chaos consuming Lebanon.

"Desire Bandit."

His smile widened into a vicious grin.

Bang!

A sergeant fired.

The officer’s chest exploded backward and his body crashed onto the pavement before anyone fully understood what had happened.

The sergeant slowly lowered his smoking rifle.

"They made us murder our own families. No more."

His voice trembled with rage.

One by one, rifles turned away from the protesters. Some soldiers dropped their weapons entirely while others aimed directly at their commanding officers. Within seconds, the checkpoint erupted into complete chaos as loyalists and defectors exchanged fire.

The civilians watched in stunned disbelief, shaken by a change they had never expected. They had all come here prepared to die for their nation.

Yet now there was hope.

"The army is with us!" someone shouted.

The words spread through the crowd like wildfire.

"The army is with us!"

"The army is with us!"

The chants transformed into deafening cheers as thousands surged forward. The loyal Blood Dunes troops were overwhelmed. Their vehicles were surrounded from every direction. Soldiers who refused to continue firing climbed out with their hands raised while civilians embraced them instead of attacking.

News of the defection spread across Beirut within minutes. Soon afterward, every major city witnessed similar scenes. Police officers abandoned their stations. Military barracks split apart as entire platoons mutinied. Some commanders were arrested by their own men. Others were shot before they even realized their authority had vanished.

The revolution no longer resembled a protest. It had become an armed uprising.

Ordinary citizens stormed abandoned police stations, collecting rifles, body armor and ammunition. Veterans who had long since retired stepped forward without being asked, organizing frightened civilians into disciplined defensive units. Engineers welded together improvised barricades while mechanics repaired captured military trucks. Hunters distributed old rifles that had remained hidden away for decades.

Entire neighborhoods transformed into fortresses before dawn. Meanwhile, the Blood Dunes responded with overwhelming brutality.

Helicopters circled above the cities while artillery pounded residential districts believed to be sheltering defectors. Elite loyalist battalions advanced street by street, executing anyone suspected of aiding the rebellion.

Entire apartment blocks became battlefields. Smoke rose above every major city while the smell of burning concrete, blood and gunpowder spread across the nation.

Inside the central military headquarters, generals shouted over one another as fresh reports arrived every few seconds.

"We’ve lost the northern checkpoints!"

"The Fourth Division has defected!"

"Tripoli police headquarters has fallen!"

"Government offices in Sidon have been seized!"

"They’ve overrun another military depot!"

Maps covering the walls filled with flashing red indicators. One commander slammed both fists onto the table.

"How are civilians defeating trained soldiers?"

No one answered.

Finally, an elderly commander slowly removed his glasses. His weary eyes remained fixed upon the reports scattered across the table. For decades they had ruled this nation through fear, believing fear was stronger than hope.

He looked toward the burning skyline visible beyond the reinforced windows. Outside, captured armored vehicles rolled through Beirut bearing Lebanese flags instead of Blood Dunes insignias while former soldiers fought side by side with ordinary civilians.

The old commander slowly closed his eyes and swallowed heavily.

Silence engulfed the command room because he no longer needed to say anything.

Every officer already understood the truth. They had lost complete control of the country. This was no longer a protest.

Lebanon had fallen into civil war.