Chapter 866 - This Game Is Too Realistic

Chapter 866: This Is Us The ominous shadow of war loomed heavily over Tiandu, with the bayonets of the Wellant almost pressing against the throats of the Boro people. It wasn't just the survivors in the city who were suffocated; even the fish and shrimp in the Eternal River seemed to struggle for breath. Yet amidst this precarious situation, a rare non-war-related event brought a breeze of relief to the stifling atmosphere of Tiandu. The Boro educational authorities abruptly announced the founding of Tiandu University, opening its doors to young individuals aged 12 to 16 for preparatory courses, and 16 to 20 for undergraduate courses. The curriculum would encompass engineering, science, sociology, and more. However, given that Tiandu University currently boasted nothing more than a plaque—not even a lecture hall, teachers, or basic textbooks—the students would temporarily attend Mammoth University's campus in Mammoth City. The plan was to admit 500 students overall, with 300 in the preparatory program and 200 in the undergraduate program. The Boro Educational Committee vowed to cover all expenses, including tuition and living costs, for the selected students during their studies. Upon completion of their preparatory studies, depending on their grades and the evolving war situation, students might continue their undergraduate studies in Mammoth City or return to Tiandu to continue their education. As for the undergraduates, after finishing their studies, they would either return to Tiandu to become university professors or be placed in government positions tailored to their expertise by the Boro authorities. In essence, once accepted, their future seemed free of personal worries—the Grand Leader would handle those for them. The entrance exam would be held in the Heavenly Palace of Tiandu, with literacy and numeracy being the only prerequisites alongside age. After all, if one couldn't even write their name, taking the exam would be futile, wasting both paper and everyone's time. Although launching such an initiative during wartime seemed somewhat untimely, with Abisek’s endorsement, Kabaha's reform proposals faced no obstacles, receiving full support. Not only did the authorities encounter minimal resistance, but the citizens of Tiandu showed overwhelming enthusiasm. Abisek was sending 500 students to study abroad in Mammoth City—a significant announcement indeed! After all, going to Mammoth City meant avoiding conscription and escaping the perilous front lines. Moreover, upon returning, Abisek promised them official positions. Was there really such a heavenly opportunity? Once the news spread, the entire city of Tiandu was abuzz! Despite the official notice not being written in such terms, almost everyone mentally translated the information, worried about missing this life-altering opportunity. All literate survivors, regardless of age, hurried to register, alongside parents enrolling their sons and daughters. These formed the majority of applicants. Those enrolled, whether learned or not, began feverishly preparing for the exam, sparking a wave of learning across Tiandu. All available books were quickly bought out by eager learners. Book buyers ranged from well-dressed individuals to soldiers in uniform, and even old farmers with nothing more than a cloth tied around their waists, mostly purchasing for their children at home. When books were gone, newspapers from vacant stalls also became victims of this frantic demand. Almost everything with words was completely cleared out. "Wow, are these NPCs really that passionate about learning?" Liabilities Big Eyes marveled at the empty newsstand, astonished at the sight. It was a stark contrast to what he had seen in Port Kingalon, where everyone he met claimed to be a student, yet this level of enthusiasm was unprecedented—not even their newsstands had been stripped bare. "Eh… doesn't concern us. Let's head back to the barracks," Site Boy with Bricks commented with a peculiar expression. The Boro are known for their extremes, showcasing behavior that's both intriguing and bewildering. Their drive wasn't necessarily born from an inherent love for knowledge or justice, but from the potential power it could bring. Whether this was good or bad remained unclear, but for those who only recently emerged from feudalism, this marked undeniable progress. Even without knowing what the exam papers entailed, this certainly seemed more reliable than using beast-fighting games for talent selection. As they leisurely strolled back to the barracks, they spotted several young officers standing at the entrance. One of them seemed familiar—his name was likely Isher, someone prominent during the West Sail Port incident. Following the event, there was no further mention of him on Falcon's posts, only that he became a centurion at the Boro-West Sail Port border, yet went missing in action once the war started. Who knew this guy was alive after all? He must have the luck of a rat. Just then, Borderline Drift emerged from the barracks, exchanged a few words with the group of officers, and then glanced at the centurion joining their mission. "You must be Isher, right?" "Centurion Isher of the Third Legion! Ready for orders from the General!" Isher stood at attention, speaking with impressive clarity. Borderline Drift smiled at the spirited young officer. "I'm not really a General, just a Corps Commander. According to your ranks, my military rank might not even be as high as yours." Technically, players didn't have military ranks, but a contribution point system to represent their allegiance to the Alliance. Isher laughed heartily. “Come now, you’re the teacher, and I’m the student. That's a different hierarchy. Don’t hold back; whatever you see that needs fixing, just let me know. I’ll make sure to set it straight!” His manner was quite engaging. Borderline Drift chuckled, responding in a lighthearted tone. “I was worried the Grand Leader would place someone inflexible with me, but it seems I was overthinking. Excellent! It’s that kind of ingenuity we need for guerrilla warfare. I have high hopes for you!” Isher grinned broadly, a hint of pride in his posture—as though he was a student praised by his teacher. From his perspective, the admiration was rightly earned. After all, this man before him was a Commander of the Death Corps! It was said that during the Torch War, this corps from the Valley Province had distinguished itself in the survivor camp, liberating two provinces from the Torch's control! In contrast, their predecessors—the ratmen soldiers who ventured into Jin Chuan Province—were barely impactful, not even considered part of the tertiary troops. To receive recognition from a Death Corps Commander meant more to Isher than any medal Abisek could award him. “Speaking of which, how should I address you, General?” Borderline Drift’s face froze momentarily, awkwardly coughing. “Uh… just call me Edge. That's what my brothers call me.” Though certain online names feel fine when typed, saying them aloud can feel embarrassing. Edge wasn’t alone in this thought—Isher hesitated upon hearing the name. Edge. Such a peculiar name. But he had heard that everyone in the Alliance carried such names, especially those rooted in the Vaults from the Prosperous Era. Being quick to pick up on social cues, Isher sensed the awkwardness on Edge’s face and smoothly led the conversation elsewhere. “... So, General Edge, when do we head to the front?” Edge replied with a smile. “That’s up to you. We’re ready and waiting.” Isher: “Coincidentally, so are we!” Edge arched an eyebrow, taking an extra glance at Isher. “Alright, since you’re all set, let’s move out now!” ... While the survivors of Tiandu were engrossed in their exam preparation, a massive army silently marched out of the city. Led by the Death Corps, a force of nearly 200,000 soldiers headed to the front once more. Apart from Isher's Third Legion, most of the army was comprised of remnants from Yudono’s forces—these were the “defeated troops” retreating from Lion City. Despite their recent loss, their spirits remained undaunted, even soaring high. The reason? Their brothers from the Alliance stood by them. They didn’t see themselves as mere cannon fodder; on the contrary, this was a chance for revenge! Their intent was to return the shame of their past defeat to the Wellant, showing those with large noses they too had backbone! Moreover, they wanted to prove to Abisek and the survivors of Tiandu that they were no cowards! In this renewed battle, they intended to alter their previous strategy from the Lion State conflict, dedicating half their forces to a forward assault, and the rest allying with Death Corps officers for a penetrating move behind enemy lines. Joining the Death Corps at the forefront was the Third Legion, led by Isher. Although his troops were mostly fresh recruits, Isher had no intention of sheltering them in the rearlines to idle away time. The unpredictability of the battlefield sometimes meant that the seemingly dangerous spots were, in fact, safer. Especially if the Wellant were eager to capture Tiandu, the frontline battle would likely be more brutal than Abisek anticipated, blurring the line between front and rear. Isher’s decision stemmed partly from his instincts—a feeling that staying close to the Alliance forces was safer and more beneficial for learning true combat prowess. Though his men wouldn't get the chance to study in Mammoth State, he believed this experience would still enrich their résumés significantly, much like how the West Sail Port incident had enriched his own. Should they survive and triumph, they would have passed a significant test... The Death Corps’ commander welcomed this decision, taking Isher and his bold soldiers along without resistance. Thus, after three days and nights of grueling march, the troops arrived at Akale County, a critical strategic point at the intersection of Niox State and Lion State—a bend in the Eternal River that neither side could afford to ignore. The river, akin to a tangled web emerging from the western side of the Jolbar Mountains, flowed into the west of Niox State, meandering between hills and plains like a coiled python. Upon reaching Akale County, the river veered eastward across central plains, streaming towards the inlet of the eastern Boro Province. Floods had continually eroded the western riverbanks and plains, creating an expansive floodplain to the west. To the east, a virtually untouched forest stretched out alongside the undulating hills, merging into the Jolbar mountain range. After aerial reconnaissance and on-site evaluations, the Death Corps settled on the river's eastern bank, deploying 155mm field guns and 20mm quad anti-aircraft guns within the forest. The floodplain to the west curtailed the speed of any troop maneuvering. If the enemy sought entry into Akale County, they couldn't ignore this thorn lodged across the river without jeopardizing their supply lines. With strategic deployments complete, Edge approached Isher, instructing him to spread combat units throughout the forest to dig L-shaped foxholes that could conceal a person. Supplies would be delivered every three days, and unless tasked otherwise, troops were to remain hidden, ready to act. This was just the groundwork. They also needed to build fixed emplacements, like light machine gun nests, aimed at thwarting any Wellant forces delving into the woods. Though unskilled, the recruits, with help from the experienced players of the Death Corps, managed not to botch the job entirely. It took them three full days to fortify their positions properly. Now came the wait... Given the Wellant's impatient tendencies, it likely wouldn't be a long one. On the second day after completing their fortifications, scouts reported back swiftly—the Wellant troops were approaching! ... Perched on a hill near the river, "Sheep Again" surveyed the distant floodplain through binoculars and suddenly remarked without context, "This land is perfect for farming." "Umbrella at Midnight without Blade" shot him a surprised look. "You know farming?" Sheep Again chuckled. "Of course! It’s a solid +3 to food production." Umbrella at Midnight without Blade: "...What?" Before he could process whatever was said, "Laplace" interjected impatiently. "What version are you even on? Not building baths is nonsense—always flooding, consuming population, and the bonuses are marginal." Sheep Again: "Ah, it’s okay. If I don’t have a national park within three tiles at the start, I reset." Laplace: "You reset all day?!" Sheep Again: "Gotta do something while waiting for respawn cooldown." Laplace: "..." When Laplace fell silent, Sheep Again provocatively suggested, "Let's squad up after this and reset together." Laplace: "Get lost." Umbrella at Midnight without Blade looked bewilderedly at the pair. "What are you two even talking about?!" Confusion was shared by more than just him. Isher, overhearing their exchange, was similarly perplexed—not by the content but by failing to grasp it entirely. "Did you invent your language?" Isher asked Edge with curiosity. Edge, wearing a subtle expression, nodded. "You could say that..." If not self-invented, perhaps inspired by aliens? Isher nodded, seemingly unfazed but secretly envious. To have a unifying language spoke to a strong sense of cohesion. Since realizing "Awakener Ball" couldn’t save the Boro Province, he'd been contemplating new paths, and here came a bit of inspiration. For the survivors of Boro Province to thrive, it seemed they needed a culture of their own... As he mused, a cloud of dust loomed over the horizon, unmistakably stirred by tires. Spotting the movement, Edge raised his hand, prompting everyone to take cover behind the earthworks, pressing themselves flat against the ground, eliminating even the smallest detectable traces. Isher mimicked them, tensing all his muscles, holding his breath as the dust approached the skyline. Simultaneously, the thick clouds parted, revealing the oppressive mass of an immense steel fortress in the sky. “The Horn!” Isher's eyes widened, half filled with fear, half with burning anger. He clenched his fists, wishing fervently to tear the beast apart with mere glare! It was the same monster that bombed Lion City! He couldn't forget the roaring flames consuming the city, nor the desperate plight of his panicked fellow citizens fleeing the inferno. Players huddled by the earthworks, binoculars in hand, viewed the approaching vehicles with steady gazes, detached from Isher's turmoil. “Three Greyhounds!” “It’s the Wellant scouting party, probably followed by a mechanized infantry brigade…” “Wonder if it's the 30th Legion—let's hope so.” “Weren’t their scouts usually running ten-vehicle teams?” “Must be issues with their ‘supplier’.” “Or maybe it's thanks to our great ‘Lucken’.” “Ha ha.” Observing the smoke draw closer, the players bantered with each other, treating the situation with ease, as if the enemy wasn’t there at all. “Don’t worry, brother.” Noticing Isher’s tense demeanor, Edge placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, grinning widely. “Trust me, there’s nothing to fear from it.” Back in the day, when they faced Mikron, everything they had was either self-made or captured, even utilizing civilians to fill the ranks. Yet in the end, hadn’t they brought that thing down? He was adamant in his belief that victory hinged on people rather than gear. Isher swallowed, taking a deep breath to calm himself. “Um…is there anything I can do?” Edge refocused on the approaching cloud of dust, narrowing his eyes slightly. “Just stay hidden.” “Let us teach you how to survive under enemy fire, how to endure until the moment they believe us wiped out, then surprise them with a devastating counter.” “This war’s just begun—there’s much more to come. Should a day arrive when we’re no longer here, pass on what we’ve taught to your comrades, keep our numbers alive.” Keep them alive... Isher's expression softened with understanding. “…So this is the Death Corps?” “Exactly, this is us.” Just as Edge finished speaking, the airship moving steadily above suddenly angled its guns downward, unleashing a barrage of flashing fire towards the eastern bank of the Eternal River! Isher's pupils constricted sharply as he watched the incoming hail of shells. "Did they discover us?!" Edge chuckled. "No need to discover anything. We're in such a prominent position; anyone would know we're here… That's why I told you all to scatter and hide and prepare the foxholes." Firing while on the move instead of anchoring and aiming indicated that they hadn't pinpointed their location. Just as he predicted, the scattershot shells lacked any precision, performing a random dance across the sky before crashing onto the empty hills and valleys below. There were at least thirty to forty hills in that stretch, and the hundred or so shells were as effective as toothpicks probing bread. The sounds of explosions reverberated almost simultaneously with the thunderous booms from the sky, shaking the entire forest. Edge furrowed his brow, sensing something unusual amid the thick smoke of explosions. "Gas shells," he realized abruptly, swiftly retrieving a spare gas mask and tossing it to Isher. "Put this on." Isher wasted no time, immediately donning the mask tossed to him by his allies from the Alliance. But then he quickly remembered that his men in the foxholes didn't have masks. "My men..." "In the supplies we left for them, there are gas masks... My brothers taught them how to use them," Edge reassured, eyes locked on the airship above. Gas masks weren't expensive, and they each carried two. Seeing that the Third Legion lacked them, they shared half of theirs. The Third Legion's frontline was comprised of only two thousand troops, whereas the Death Corps had five thousand, so sharing was feasible. What surprised him, however, was that the enemy had resorted to using gas shells. He had assumed they might set the forest ablaze but evidently overestimated their scruples. Yellow-green gas spread through the forest, visibly causing the foliage to wither rapidly. The gas was denser than air, lingering instead of dispersing. Without masks, the consequences would be dire! Fortunately, a breeze picked up, somewhat dispersing the toxic gas hanging over the hills. Perhaps thinking that any survivors in the forest were now dead, the reconnaissance vehicles loitering by the river finally received grudging orders to proceed forward. Simultaneously, armored personnel carriers approached from the distance. The size of this force suggested it was a company-sized unit, equivalent to an Alliance regiment. Sheep Again lowered his binoculars, turning excitedly to Edge. "Looks like they're preparing to cross the river!" "Seems the commander doesn’t trust their artillery's effectiveness," Edge laughed, pressing the communicator hanging from his shoulder. "Attention all units, the enemy is preparing to cross the river!" "Wait until they've laid their bridge and are on land before engaging!" Replies echoed through the communication channel with precision and unity. "Roger that!" To be continued...