Chapter 858 - This Game Is Too Realistic

Chapter 858: The Steel Burns! The boiling intent to kill filled the entire forest. Yet, at this moment, the thousand-strong armored squad charging forward with billowing dust was completely oblivious. The air squadron from West Sail Port had already scouted the entire area ahead. The only thing blocking the defensive line a few kilometers away were a few anti-tank guns deployed in artillery pits. In addition, there were some suspected scattered foxholes and concealed areas likely harboring guerilla forces. In front of the "Conqueror X," which could withstand a 100-kilogram aerial bomb's dive bomb attack, these seemingly intimidating setups were mere toothpicks at best, capable of only breaking a track or two. Considering the possibility that the Alliance might have imparted the "drone dive tactic" to these guerillas, they had already added chains to hinder drones at the front and rear of the vehicles based on the Eastern Legion's experiences. Once those quadcopters got close, the rotors would entangle with the chains and lose power. Not a single soldier in the Wieland force doubted that when their tanks appeared before the Boran people, the indestructible tracks would roll right over their shocked faces. This was going to be a battle devoid of suspense! On the moving "Greyhound" wheeled reconnaissance vehicle, Centurion Nicholas of the reconnaissance unit was adjusting the magnification of his observation scope. Comparing the marked points and symbols on a map in his hand, he fixed his gaze on the suspected artillery pit ahead. The "rats" hiding in the holes had obviously also noticed the dust stirred up by the tires from afar and were restlessly emerging from their dugouts. Unlocking the weapon's safety, he maintained vigilance while shouting into the communicator. "...Enemy towed artillery loading 2.5 kilometers ahead! Currently spotted three guns!” A response quickly came through the communication channel. "Roger that!" Nicholas took a deep breath, moved his eyes away from the observation scope to the shooting window, placing his index finger on the trigger, eyes glued to the three loading artillery pieces, yet he did not fire first. The distance was slightly out of range for the 20mm cannon on the wheeled armor. Although the "Greyhound" came equipped with a stabilizer, it didn't mean that they could entirely disregard the bumpy terrain. To hit the target, they would have to stop to fire. But doing so would be a trade-off for their advantage in mobility. Nicholas quickly made a decision, intending to teach these amateur guerrillas a lesson once they closed in to within a kilometer. Compared to Nicholas's caution, his underlings were much more reckless. Earlier battles had already shown them the level of the Boran guerillas. Those guys could turn an ambush into an encounter, akin to handing over their heads on a platter. Instead of making them more vigilant, the loss of comrades had ignited their anger and thirst for vengeance. They were eager to avenge their two fallen brothers! "Two kilometers left!" "Sir! They seem to have finished loading! Request permission to fire!" "Denied, wait for the order to fire! Get closer first!" "Yes, sir!" "Haha, do those rats really think that thing is useful against us?" Hearing the banter on the comms channel, Nicholas reprimanded in a low voice. "Don't be too careless! That thing might be a 155mm, and although it can't penetrate the Conqueror, it's more than enough to pierce us." The enemy's artillery barrel was wrapped with grass, making it unclear exactly what caliber it was. It could be a 155mm, or perhaps their 100mm. Regardless of the type of cannon, even if it couldn't penetrate a tank, it would have no problem piercing through the reconnaissance vehicle's armor, which is less than 20mm effective. He had already lost one reconnaissance vehicle and didn't wish to disgrace Centurion Recton any further. In response to Nicholas's caution, another observer and vehicle captain named Jimmy merely jibed. "But they still have to hit us first—" Just as he spoke, a series of deafening cannon blasts erupted from afar. It wasn't just the three cannons firing; there were at least a dozen, mixed with some… mortars? "Damn—!" "They've started firing!" The comms channel erupted in a cacophony of shouts as each reconnaissance vehicle swiftly altered its course. Though they boasted of being fearless, seeing the incoming shells was a different story altogether, and the boys nervously babbled incoherently. Nicholas was stunned, doubting his ears. How did the sound of mortars get mixed in? But before he could process, a chaotic barrage of shells was already heading their way. Without hesitation, he shouted. "Take cover!" "Roger!" The driver seated in front of him, unfazed, gently turned the steering wheel, easily avoiding the slow-descending shell from afar. In truth, there was no need to dodge. At this distance, hitting them was virtually impossible, and the shells weren't even aimed at them. Some landed in front while others fell on the tracks left by their tires. "Boom—!" A thick plume of explosive smoke soared, accompanied by a spreading milky white smoke wall. Glancing out of the turret's rear window, Nicholas was startled and quickly realized. "It's a smoke screen!" No— It wasn't just a simple smoke screen! With no response from the comms, Nicholas soon horrifyingly discovered that his vehicular radio had malfunctioned! "Damn it! It's an electromagnetic interference shell!" The distant artillery fire continued, growing increasingly dense, as shells rained over the expansive plains, seemingly intent on shrouding the entire field in smoke. This was a plain. Their smoke trick wouldn't last long! Gazing at the sporadic signals, a bead of sweat trickled down Nicholas's forehead, consoling himself internally. But just as they were about to break through the signal-blocking smoke, the vehicle lurched violently as if hitting a ridge! With a grunt, Nicholas slammed against the turret, nearly bruising his forehead. The vehicle noticeably tilted forward! Gripping the slanted handrail, he gritted his teeth and cursed, shouting at the driver. "What the hell are you doing!" The driver, furiously mashing the gas pedal, shouted back in anger and panic. "The visibility is terrible! Damn it! Our tire got snagged on something!" "Snagged?!" Nicholas and the other radio operator's faces turned pale. Stopping in such a dire place was akin to being living targets! The only silver lining was that the enemy artillery was still incessantly firing smoke shells. Though the towering smoke wall impeded their communication and visibility, it conversely shielded them. Nicholas shoved the radio operator behind him, urging him on. "Go check it out!" "Yes, sir!" Though the radio operator was terrified, he knew hesitation wasn't an option. Clutching a PU-9 submachine gun, he gritted his teeth and exited the vehicle. As he pushed open the door, an ear-splitting explosion echoed nearby, accompanied by rapid-fire crackling akin to firecrackers. It was the sound of an ammunition rack detonating! Simultaneously, the "tut-tut" sound of a 20mm cannon firing resounded. Seemingly spurred by witnessing the allies' fate, one reconnaissance vehicle fired frantically, its tracer fire aimlessly streaking through the dense smoke. A stray bullet narrowly missed Nicholas's ride, sparking against the sturdy vehicle hull with a metallic "duang." The radio operator, dodging, was startled, hurriedly dropping to the ground. "Are you insane?! Cease fire!" Even Nicholas was frightened, grabbing the communicator and shouting, but it was futile. Firing in this situation was pointless; not only would it reveal their position, but it could even harm allies. Yet, at that moment, Nicholas suddenly realized he wasn't the only one immobilized. All nine vehicles in the reconnaissance team had lost mobility! His expression completely changed. If the smoke cleared, they would be sitting ducks, easy prey for the distant artillery. "What the hell is happening!" Rationality waning, Nicholas shouted to the outside, gripping the submachine gun hanging under the turret, ready to abandon the vehicle. The radio operator, crawling with difficulty from the muddy ground with a desperate expression, shouted toward the open vehicle door. "It's a hidden trench! They dug a trench and covered it with grass! Our tires got stuck!" And this trench wasn't just any trench; it was one that sloped downward at the front and rose at the back. If it were just the tires caught in a ditch, they might have been able to drive out eventually. However, because of the height difference between the front and back, their chassis was caught on the trench wall, effectively suspending the front and rear wheels. Nicholas was stunned. A trench?! On a plain?! How did these guys manage to pull this off right under our noses?! No— Actually, there was a way. They could have first dug a tunnel underground and then removed the top layer, replacing it with straw or similar camouflage. The area was full of farmland, connected near the field ridges, with slight disguise that would go unnoticed by planes. Realizing the gravity of the situation, Nicholas's expression shifted from rigid to downright terrified. He suddenly recalled the faces filled with hatred hidden in the forest earlier and those soldiers who would rather die than surrender. It was only then he remembered that those numbered twenty thousand, and behind that twenty thousand stood hundreds of millions more... Unbeknownst to them, they had already sunk into a bottomless quagmire! Numerous foxholes opened, revealing gaunt faces that emerged from the depths. They were not tall, with lean bodies and eyes fierce as hyenas. The weapons in their hands varied greatly. There were Breach rifles, Alliance-supplied LD-47s, and even some crude benches as weapons. Noticing the soldiers crawling forward, the Wieland vehicle crew members immediately drew out submachine guns and opened fire on them, but soon found themselves suppressed by returning fire. Even a battle-hardened race could not withstand the overwhelming numbers. Once close enough, the crawling soldiers no longer concealed themselves, rising from the ground and charging toward the immobilized reconnaissance vehicles. A panicked Wieland crew member shouted at his comrades behind him. "Damn! Their infantry is closing in on us! How long until our tanks get here?!" He regretted having rushed this far ahead. But there was no time for regret now, only to pray for swift reinforcements. "Where the hell did these ground rats come from?!" "We need reinforcements! Three o'clock direction—" "Stop firing, for god's sake! You want to get us all killed?!" "Don't stop firing! They're rushing us!" "How many of these bastards are there?!" "Argh! Die, damn you!" Facing the oppressive, suffocating white mist, Nicholas's lips turned pale. Amidst the chaos, he faintly heard the gunfire, curses, and cries of his comrades. Tracers flew through the fog, yet could not halt the rage-fueled battle cries charging forth. It was at least a thousand strong— "Charge!!!" ... "Enemy artillery position deploying smoke rounds!" "Loss of contact with the reconnaissance centuria!" The armored thousand-strong unit moved forward inexorably. Two sudden reports made Recton's pupils constrict as he sat in the command vehicle. Smoke rounds? And with signal interference. What kind of trick are these natives playing this time? "The Alliance probably gave it to them!" The voice of the adjutant came through the communication channel, causing Recton to roll his eyes. "...What a revelation. Could these natives really make this stuff themselves?" Staring at the dense smoke dispersing ahead, Recton's voice remained calm and steady over the communicator as he issued orders. "First centuria, advance through the smoke front. Second and third centuria flank from the sides, fourth and fifth follow from behind. Everyone else maintains the original formation...and keep an eye on that forest to our east." "Understood!" The collective response came through the comms, and the steel surge of ninety-two tanks simultaneously adjusted their formation. The tanks on the flanks accelerated while those in the middle maintained their speed, transforming the once arrow-shaped array into an expanding bowl shape. A total of ninety-two tanks! And over half were Conqueror Xs! As the vanguard of the attack, they would become the impenetrable spear in Centurion Ryan's hand! Recton watched intently with a curious smile curling on his lips. He wondered, what tricks do those on the opposite side have up their sleeves? "Charge through!" As the smoke loomed ever closer, sitting under the turret, he kicked the driver's seat, energizing the driver, who shouted back full of spirit. "Yes, sir!" The kilometers melted away in an instant, yet all that unfolded before Recton’s eyes froze his smile in place. Nine "Greyhound" wheeled reconnaissance vehicles lay abandoned on the road, one scorched black, seemingly blown apart at the ammo rack and fuel tank. As for the remaining eight, the crew members had been dragged out and grimly strung up on the vehicle carcasses and turrets. Some had been gutted with bayonets, others shot or charred. The ground nearby was littered with bodies; from their frail bodies and shabby gear, it was evident they were Boran soldiers. Both sides, consumed by bloodlust, vented their hatred in the most brutal manner on each other. Staring with eyes wide apart at the corpses, Recton was instantly enraged, his clenched jaw nearly grinding teeth into powder. "Those bastards!" The interfering smoke grew thinner, and in the distance, the artillery roared again. Spotting the Borans' army intending to replicate their tactic, Recton clutched the communicator and roared. "All units, open fire freely!" "Wipe them out thoroughly!" His words had barely left his lips when a fierce explosion erupted from the northeast direction. That was not the sound of tank cannons. For at that very moment, Recton saw a column of fireworks shoot skywards, accompanied by a blasting turret. It was one of their vaunted "Conqueror X!" Watching the sparking flames and the shell of the half-scorched vehicle, Recton was utterly stupefied. Not just him, nearly all of Wieland was in shock. The terrified voice finally came through the comms. "...This is the third centuria! We’ve come under unidentified anti-tank fire! Damn it!" Before the outcry ended, another brilliant fireball bloomed across the plain. This time, Recton saw clearly, it was a missile coming from the forest! It’s the Alliance! Without any hesitation, Recton mustered all his strength and bellowed into the communicator he nearly crushed. "Third centuria, deploy smoke! Fifth, seventh, ninth centuria attack the eastern forest!" "Hold nothing back, crush them!" ... Turning tail was not an option now; the opponent clearly had well-prepared firing windows, and exposing our backs would only hasten our deaths. Moreover, retreating with tails tucked wasn’t the Southern Legion's style! Though the missile that struck and detonated their rack startled Recton, he decisively ordered the advancing armored units on the right to charge ahead. Individual anti-vehicle weapons usually had a safety distance limit; getting closer could be paradoxically safer. The formation altered course, and at least thirty tanks barreled directly toward the forest, firing as they advanced. Explosive flames swiftly engulfed a section of the forest, knocking down thigh-thick trees with overwhelming force. If it were the Boran army facing this barrage, more than half might have perished! Yet, what they faced were the "Blue Bandits" from Vault 404. And no less, the elite Burning Legion! The players present were no strangers to the Legion's tanks, naturally too savvy to remain static and be targets. After firing a single missile, Old Bai immediately cranked his power armor to its maximum output, vanishing before the gun barrels could follow. By the time the next shell barrage landed, he had already loaded a third missile in a new position. A slender trail of white smoke snaked out from the forest, carving a steep arc in the air, viciously striking a Conqueror X retreating under a smokescreen. The tank, like a can fixed by a can opener, was reduced to scrap metal amidst boiling flames without any suspense. Old Bai, having scored a direct hit, didn't glance back at the exploding fireworks, swiftly moving to the next firing point as the legion's spotters confirmed his kill. "Direct hit! Well done!" “Lock onto the next target quickly.” “Roger that!” Old Bai wasn't the only one shouldering missile launchers; the "Doves" flying out from the forest were more than just a few. The Alliance's five hundred players worked in pairs, scattered over the vast forest and field spanning several kilometers. One would lock and observe, while the other loaded and fired. Although the missile's exhaust trail gave away the shooter's position, the "Aurora" power armor's protection and mobility rendered the Legion's tanks helpless. Unless struck by an armor-piercing round or caught in a high-explosive blast at close range, mere shrapnel wouldn't incapacitate these agile armored infantry! In contrast, the Legion's tanks appeared as if made of paper against those missiles. Successive explosions brought near-total despair to the three centuria of armor advancing at the front. They had stormed into the artillery-battered forest, yet the situation didn't improve, with continuous casualties mounting. “Damn it! They’ve got power armor!” “What on earth are those missiles?!” “Their mobility speed is too high! We need infantry support!” Despair wasn't confined to the Legion's right flank; it rapidly spread across the entire battlefield. Surrounded by the burning wreckage on the northeastern side and the approaching flames, Recton found himself in bewildered rage and utter hopelessness. How were these guys managing this?! The Conqueror X’s spaced armor was meant to withstand the metal jets of traditional shaped charges, and its material could block any kinetic energy weapon based on conventional firing principles! Moreover, the Conqueror X's comprehensive defense system could withstand aerial bomb blasts and counter chemical and radioactive threats! For survivor factions with technology levels from the early Prosperity Era or earlier, their superiority was near absolute! But for survivor factions more advanced than the early Prosperity Era, they could rely on sheer scale and unmatched cohesion for victory. This efficient expansion model had been infallible for over a century and a half. This was the root of their confidence! Yet this time, they had met an immovable object. The Alliance was like a cauldron of molten iron, uniting the once contentious vault dwellers and wastelanders through a shared belief, welding technologically advanced survivor factions with vast survivor populations into a singular ironclad force. The missile propulsion design and launch system came from Boulder City, the identification, guidance, and micro-storage technologies from the Southern Sea Alliance, and the critical "plasma" warhead stemmed from corporate plasma-related technology... These technologies were integrated at Camp 101 and manufactured in Dawn City's industrial zone. The technological superiority was only an outward facade. Similar to economic and cultural flourishing in other realms. Recton would never, even in death, understand where he truly lost. They weren't facing a mere settlement, or a single survivor faction. But all survivors across the wasteland who had united! In under five minutes, the thirty tanks that delved deep into the forest were entirely destroyed! Only a fraction had their ammo racks and fuel tanks directly blown up; the rest were rendered immobile, leaving crews to abandon their vehicles and surrender. With the battle resolve of the Wieland, there were inevitably those who resisted to the bitter end. Nonetheless, against the most elite infantry of the Alliance, such feeble resistance didn't stir even a ripple, quickly suppressed by the barrage from the woods. With the collapse of the right flank, the advancing "armored spearhead" was soon like a crippled mad bull, losing balance and being mired down in the muddy expanse. Out of the ninety-two tanks, eighty were wrecked during their charge. The remaining dozen met their fate in the retreat. Observing the field of burning steel from afar, Ye Shi couldn't help but marvel. "Wow... this upgraded plasma warhead is insanely powerful!" No exaggeration needed. This upgraded "Dove" model packed at least five times the power of the original traditional-charged shaped charges! Previously, aside from the "Model 60 Vehicle Electromagnetic Gun" and the dive-bombing suicide drones, they really had no decent methods to contend with the Legion's Conqueror X. Squatting nearby, Gale glanced at him sideways. "You think that thing's cheap?" The plasma missile's tech complexity was hardly lesser than that of a nuke. At the very least, as a physics professor, he couldn’t fathom how those intricate devices were integrated into such a tiny warhead. Just like how a caveman who just mastered fire making wouldn't comprehend how a lighter ignites. To him, it was the "caveman’s lighter," while they were still in the research phase of "making high-temperature plasma burn more stably and last longer." Ye Shi, unfazed by such complex issues, didn’t dwell on reality, instead chuckling. "Does it matter if it's pricey, as long as it’s cheaper than a tank?" "...Maybe, I wouldn't know. You might want to ask Fang Chang." Gale looked at the approaching dark clouds in the western sky, continuing. "But, the real trouble never lies on the ground. I have a feeling the problem in the sky might be even bigger." The Southern Legion had deployed five airships this time. These floating fortresses posed a far greater threat than any terrestrial steel tide. The same tactics are unlikely to work twice. Whether boarding combat, phase weapons, or high-power electromagnetic guns, the Southern Legion is surely on high alert for all. But setting aside those long-term concerns, this current interception battle was undoubtedly a resounding victory for them. Both tactically and strategically, they successfully arrested the Legion's aggressive advance, crushing the Wieland's arrogance. At this moment, an energy-depleted fixed-wing drone gently landed near the two. Gale approached, folding its wings and tucking it into his charging backpack. “…The Legion's 30th Centuria is only ten kilometers away from us. They've realized we’ve knocked their teeth out, it’s time to relocate.” Brushing dirt and grass off his trousers, Ye Shi got to his feet, picked up the toppled electric dirt bike beside him, laughing. “Got it!” … Carrying the spoils from their allied forces, the triumphant Burning Legion withdrew from the battlefield with precision. Throughout the entire battle, they only lost three power armors and seven exoskeletons. These damaged pieces of equipment might be refurbished and reused at the rear, and fallen comrades could return to the front line via dedicated flights within a week, no worse for wear. All told, they effectively suffered no casualties and merely expended some valuable ammunition. Conversely, the Southern Legion lost an entire "heavily armored regiment." For a Southern Legion with limited armored units to begin with, this loss was devastating. Upon learning of Recton's demise, Ryan nearly coughed up blood inside the command vehicle. He was one of his own! And also his most elite armored unit! Though he didn’t physically cough up blood, his heart bled profusely. With fists tightly clenched, Ryan’s facial muscles contorted, his face a gruesome mask of rage. From receiving the report until now, he hadn’t uttered a word, yet every unsaid thought was written across his furious face. "...I'm going to kill them!" Watching his enraged superior, the adjutant and staff sitting opposite sat silently, barely daring to breathe, yet equally seething inside. Those thousand-plus brothers absolutely cannot have died in vain… Their enemies must pay a heavy price! To be continued.