Chapter 869 - This Game Is Too Realistic

Chapter 869: The Great Victory in Akal County! In the southern part of Akal County, a fierce encounter erupted on the open plains. On one side was the 370,000-strong Southern Corps led by Baldwin. On the other was the First Mechanized Infantry Division from Ginhall Port, complemented by armored regiments from the Tiger and Panther Armies. The latter aimed to advance to the bend in the Eternal River, cutting off the retreat of the 360,000-strong Southern Corps, while the former sought to prevent them from striking the rear of their allies. As soon as contact was made, both sides engaged in intense gunfire. Two "Chimera" armored vehicles first launched "Dove" missiles, taking out a Conqueror V Light Tank and a "Beast" wheeled infantry fighting vehicle. The Southern Corps' 370,000 didn't back down. Two light armored squads swiftly advanced, destroying three "Chimera" armored vehicles from the Ginhall Port division. As the armored squads of the 370,000 seemed poised to overwhelm the forward units of the First Mechanized Infantry Division, a massive force of over a hundred "Conqueror X" tanks suddenly surged into the Southern Corps' formation! The two light armor squads were caught off guard and were quickly decimated by the incoming tank shells, reduced to burning wreckage in the mud. "Advance!!!" The commander of the Tiger Army's armored regiment shouted through their communication channels, leading his forces to flank the 370,000's positions. Seeing their own tanks charging towards them, the Southern Corps soldiers were left stunned. The Conquerors were supposed to be *their* tanks. While it wasn't uncommon for the Alliance to capture a few vehicles, how had they amassed tanks enough for two full thousand-man units?! Against the limited anti-tank firepower of the Southern Corps, the Conqueror X moved with impunity, pursuing the scattered infantry and reconnaissance vehicles across the plains. As casualties mounted, Baldwin, commanding the operation, felt his heart bleeding. The light armored squads he had dispatched were his best troops, his elite! Facing mere natives of the Polor Province, he had intended for his men to earn commendations, not expecting the sudden emergence of two armored thousand-man units! In just a few minutes, twenty Beast infantry fighting vehicles were lost, along with five "Greyhound" and two armored transport vehicles. Seeing his forces on the brink of collapse, he grabbed the communicator and shouted in desperation. "Pull back the light armored squads! Deploy the first thousand-man unit! Disable their tracks!" "Support teams, ready to fire! Use hollow charge grenades! Target the tanks with broken tracks!" Following this order, the two light armored squads of the 370,000 quickly withdrew, replaced by a wave of willing soldiers armed with anti-tank weapons charging forward. On the vast plain, only the uneven ridges served as makeshift cover. Moving along the edge of the ridges, they fired back with rocket launchers, covering the retreat of their armored units. Simultaneously, over a thousand Glory soldiers also engaged in a suicidal charge towards the Tiger Army’s armor with improvised anti-tank gear. The sounds of battle echoed through the hills, but the uncoordinated assault was met with a barrage of 37mm fragmentation shells. Explosions lit up the fields, hurling debris and flesh through the air. Clone soldiers fell like wheat before the scythe, yet under the centurion's orders, they pressed on, eyes wide with resolve. The brutal melee had commenced. With allied cover, the First Mechanized Infantry of Ginhall Port halted their retreat. Twenty leading "Chimera" armored vehicles reversed, matching the Tiger Army's advance. Their 37mm cannons engaged nearby infantry while launching "Dove" missiles to hunt down the fleeing Conqueror V Light Tanks. Conversely, the Southern Corps' 370,000 found themselves enmeshed in a bitter struggle. Neither the recoilless rifles of the anti-tank squads nor the desperate charges of Glory clone soldiers wielding grenades and "Iron Fist" rockets could pierce through the heavy armor of the Conqueror X tanks. With spaced armor almost impenetrable to hollow charges, and the light Conqueror V's peashooter barely scratching the heavy tanks, breaking their tracks was all they could hope for. In a past experiment, two Conqueror X tanks had tested their firepower against one another and, despite expending all their ammunition, they could scarcely damage each other. In weapon design philosophy, the Corps and the Southern Sea Alliance represented polar opposites. The latter relied on mutual deterrence, while the former never considered the risk of internal conflict. In some sense, the Valorites were indeed united. Yet when betrayal occurred, this unity ironically became a burden. These Conqueror X tanks had been transferred by the Eastern Corps, sold via arms dealers along the Death Coast to the warlords of Tiger and Panther States! The First Mechanized of Ginhall Port soon gained the upper hand, though their adversaries were formidable. The Tiger Army's armored regiment, after a fierce advance, soon found their assault stalling. Several tanks sank due to their weight in the muddy plains, while others broke tracks. Akal County lay within expansive floodplains, with sandy, silty terrain. The rainy season had exacerbated the conditions, rendering the fields muddy and treacherous. Seeing tanks stuck on the plain, Baldwin ordered the artillery to fire. 200mm armor-piercing grenades targeted the embattled tank patches, guided by infantry coordinates. A Conqueror X was soon struck, an armor-piercing shell breaching the turret from above. An explosive plume rose into the sky, accompanied by the catastrophic detonation of its munitions rack. The crew inside perished instantaneously, leaving no remains to salvage. Noticing their plight, crews of immobilized tanks were forced to abandon their vehicles. “Turn them to shreds! Fire at will!” Baldwin roared, a bloodthirsty grin spread across his face as he watched the fleeing Polor natives scurry. Fools! Artillery was the Southern Corps' trump card! The invincibility of the Conqueror X was relative, not absolute. They did hold answers to the Conqueror X! Amidst the artillery's relentless barrage, another Conqueror X’s turret was launched skyward. Baldwin’s triumph was short-lived, interrupted by thunderous explosions from afar. These were not artillery shots, but explosions! Baldwin’s smile froze as smoke billowed from his artillery’s position, his heart sinking with dread. "Dammit!" Cursing, he grabbed the communicator to connect with the support force. “What caused that explosion?! What in the world is happening over there?!” His words had scarcely left his lips when another salvo of explosives shook the artillery position, smoke now rising in thick columns. Even a fool could deduce it; the prior blast was a calibration shot for artillery fire. The subsequent barrage was genuine! The harsh static and roar of artillery came through the channel, as the support force's leader shouted in disarray. “We're under artillery attack! It’s the 360,000’s artillery! Damn it, get them to cease fire!” “The 360,000?!” Baldwin froze, mind blank, infinite possibilities racing through his thoughts, until one conclusion stood clear. The allied artillery had been overtaken! The fifty-two “Fire Bolt” self-propelled guns, meant to target their foes, now turned against them! Cold sweat ran down Baldwin's brow as clarity dawned. Within three seconds, he made his decision, shouting into the communicator. “Glory forces, continue to delay the enemy! Hold them at all costs!!” “All units, withdraw west! We’ll regroup in the southern part of Red Bull County!” With the command to withdraw, the Valorite units fighting the First Mechanized Infantry began to pull back. Even where they held a clear advantage, they retreated unhesitatingly, leaving the clones to launch a frontal assault instead. The latter was quickly annihilated, while the Valorites took advantage of the bought time to swiftly board their armored personnel carriers. In their hasty retreat, they couldn’t even gather their fallen comrades’ bodies, leaving them and their scattered equipment abandoned on the battlefield. Armored personnel carriers hurriedly evacuated the field, with the entire ten-kilometer-wide front line thus abandoned... Though it seemed disgraceful, Baldwin's decision was wise. Not long after they began their retreat, flaming white phosphorus rained down on their former positions, dousing the area from north to south. Having captured the self-propelled artillery, Yokal's subordinates showed no mercy, employing the fiercest attacks. Had they left just a minute later, those Valorite soldiers behind ridge covers would have been engulfed in flames and mud with no escape, neither from life nor from death... Watching the flaming inferno and charred bodies, the soldiers of Ginhall Port, crouched behind the ridges, were visibly astonished. "The Valorites... retreated." The Ginhall soldiers exchanged glances, all mirroring disbelief on each other's faces. "Holy..." A young soldier swallowed hard, murmuring under his breath. "...We actually won." No one could quite believe it was real. From the troops on the front lines to the officers commanding from behind, their faces were full of surprise. Before setting foot on the battlefield, they hadn’t imagined defeating the Corps head-on, but, to their shock, they had indeed won. Once the flames died down, a veteran cautiously rose, scouting ahead to find no trace of the Valorites—just abandoned gear and smoldering corpses. Unable to contain his excitement, he raised his rifle and shouted with all his might. "Victory!!!" The exhilarated cheer quickly swelled into a chorus of shouts echoing across the hills. "We won!!!" "Ohoooo!!!" Meanwhile, in the armored personnel carriers, the Valorites bore expressions of humiliation. They had lost to mere natives! "Damn it..." one Valorite soldier cursed, punching his knee with a dull thud. The soldier beside him remained silent, his heavy face expressionless. Inside the command vehicle, Baldwin wore the same look, but his grim expression wasn’t merely from the loss—it was because he couldn’t reach their neighboring ally. From the moment they were shelled, he had tried to contact the leader, Captain Woolf, to no avail. “Damn it!” He slammed the communicator onto the table, his gloomy face growing darker still. His adjutant, seated next to him, spoke in a heavy tone. “The 360,000-strong unit is likely in dire straits... In the worst case, even their command post might have been taken.” “That fool!” Baldwin cursed, glancing at the faint silhouette hovering in the sky. To lose under the watchful eye of the steel airship! It disgraced the entire Corps! Might as well finish himself off! ... Just as Baldwin predicted, the 360,000-strong unit was indeed in a precarious position. Initially, the support team, having just readied their fifty-two self-propelled guns for battle, were overrun by the stealthy Burning Legion. It was the most frustrating fight—Alliance soldiers in power armor stormed directly in front of Centurion Tolan! Facing the dark barrels of their guns, Tolan, taken aback, had no choice but to raise his hands and surrender. Surrounding them weren’t just the Burning Legion but also the Polor 11th from the Corps, clad in standard exoskeletons. Their combat power was no match for breakthrough attempts. Fierce resistance would only lead to unnecessary casualties. “...Let it go, Phil. They’ve won this fight.” Glancing at the adjutant who was poised to resist, Tolan calmly advised. "But sir..." “Think of your men. They have families back home too.” Hearing his commanding officer’s words, the adjutant named Phil reluctantly handed over his pistol, a look of shame on his face. Taking the gun, Old White glanced at the Centurion Tolan, raising an eyebrow slightly. “I like pragmatic people; it saves us a lot of time.” Seeing the cuffs offered by a nearby soldier, Tolan obediently extended his wrists. But before being taken away, he suddenly spoke as if pondering something. “Are you the commander of the Burning Legion?” Noticing the NPC looking up at him, Old White nodded straightforwardly. “Yes.” Tolan pondered for a moment. “May I ask a bold question?” Old White: “Go ahead.” Casting a glance at the Polor soldiers wearing Corps gear, Tolan asked calmly. “I can’t fathom it... What did they offer you that made you side with them?” Old White replied bluntly. “Because if we don’t, the wasteland will never end.” Hearing this unexpected answer, Tolan visibly hesitated. “...The wasteland will never end?” “Exactly,” Old White nodded, gesturing toward the distant self-propelled artillery, “Can that end the wasteland?” “With enough, it could definitely do it,” Phil muttered defiantly, glaring at Old White, “Or at the least, clear pests like you out of the way.” Old White, unfazed, simply chuckled in response. “Really? Then shouldn’t your wasteland have ended by now? Why are you seeking land under the sun here? I wager survivalists in the wasteland vie for spots in your areas, not hide from you like cockroaches.” Tolan suddenly laughed softly. “Anybody doing that must certainly be mad.” Phil looked to his superior, dumbfounded by his words. Hearing this surprising remark, Old White eyed Tolan with renewed interest, raising an eyebrow slightly. So, not all Valorites were lunatics—some were quite sensible... All fifty-two self-propelled guns were seized, with Captain Yokal directing his forces to aim at the enemy artillery positions based on coordinates from the First Mechanized Infantry Division, unleashing a relentless bombardment on the 370,000-strong unit's artillery positions. What followed next aligned with what Baldwin had witnessed. Beset by tanks and artillery fire from both the front and rear, the 370,000-strong unit could only flee in disarray. In comparison to total defeat, dispersal was a gentler term. Luckily, they ran fast. Any slower, and they would’ve lacked the chance to escape altogether. The collapse of the 370,000-strong unit and the downfall of the 360,000-strong support force were just the beginning. Against the Death Legion and the Polor 30,000-man's combined assault, eight crossing thousand-man units suffered heavy casualties. Facing the Legion’s infiltration and encirclement, nearly 10,000 soldiers embedded in the woods were sliced in half! One group, overextended, found themselves trapped on a hillside less than five kilometers from the riverbank, while those recently crossing had their retreat blocked at the river’s edge. Especially brutal was the latter’s plight. With pontoon bridges destroyed one after another, the Valorites stationed by the river lost any escape route, helplessly enduring shrapnel barrages from the forest, bearing mounting casualties. Some, overcome with fear and finding no shelter, turned to leap into the Eternal River, desperately trying to swim back to the western bank. Blood stained the riverbanks, bodies were strewn everywhere on the eastern shore of the Eternal River! Among them were clones and Valorites alike, some perished under machine gunfire, others by mortar fragments or internal ruptures caused by blasts. Explosions roared ceaselessly as the airship finally dropped anchor, its cannons aimed to repel the Death Legion’s encirclement of the 360,000-strong unit. Yet soon, dense smoke billowed from the forest, capable of cutting off their signals. With their artillery persistently bombarding the haze, the aerial forces found themselves blind without guidance from ground troops, left helplessly watching as dense smoke spread through the forests. Twenty "Daggers" arrived above the battlefield from West Sail Port, but lacking ground direction, they hesitated to engage. The same went for the "Saber" aircraft arriving from Eternal Night Port. Particularly frustrated were the pilots of the Sabers, who lacked proper ground-attack capabilities, and after firing off a couple of cannon bursts, had to retreat regretfully. In the end, the artillery fire from the Horn took the most decisive role, indiscriminately shelling the fringes of the smoke, inadvertently bombarding plenty of allied troops too. Yet, those soldiers charged relentlessly through the shelling, determined to take an enemy even in death. Faced with such indomitable spirit, the 360,000-strong unit was left utterly bewildered. Many young men from the colonies faced such carnage for the first time. The lofty pride they bore upon entering battle was all but consumed, replaced with panic and terror. There were no medals here to be won. Only death awaited, in every direction. Not only the frontline soldiers, but also the officers commanding from the rear found themselves in the same grim position. At this stage, distinctions between front and rear had all but vanished, the entire forest resounding with gunfire and flying bullets. Yet, not everyone capitulated as readily as Centurion Tolan. Take Tout, the first to cross the river, who obstinately swore to never surrender. Seeing his troops nearly wiped out, his eyes were bloodshot, refusing to relent as he led his guard forward. “No retreat! Hold your ground! Our reinforcements are coming!” “Damn it! Straighten up!” Though the 360,000-strong unit had suffered greatly, he believed the Alliance and Polor forces had as well, with similar heavy losses! The bodies scattered throughout the forest weren’t all Valorites. Many were from the Alliance and Polor as well. If he retreated now, those brothers’ deaths would have been truly in vain. For the dignity of the Valorites, he could not allow himself to fall back at this time. Yet at that very moment, gunfire from his front-left side erupted. Two guards were killed instantly, the other two hit in the chest and leg, blood flowing freely as they fell. Tout drew his pistol, but before he could even release the safety, a boot struck, knocking him to the ground. Reaching for his fallen gun, a soldier's boot pinned his wrist down. “Argh!!!” Tout let out a cry of pain as Edgewater reverse-gripped the bayonet-tipped LD-47 rifle, driving it into the ground by his ear. “It’s over. Order your men to surrender.” “Surrender… haha…” Despite the pain, Tout grinned with blood-streaked mud on his twisted face, resembling a demon from the mire. “...In your dreams!” Expecting this response, Edgewater merely clicked his tongue, saying nothing more. Regardless of whether this man surrendered, it could not change the outcome of this battle. As he had said, it was already over. The roar of aircraft engines echoed overhead as two "Thunder" fighters streaked through the sky, their vibrant blue trails heading straight for the circling "Daggers." The propeller planes clustered near the steel airship seeking cover, while the airship frantically raised its guns and air-to-air missiles, guarding against those luminous blue streaks. Pilot Lofy and his wingman in the Thunder fighters veered just outside the airship’s firing range, unleashing thirty-two unguided rockets at the hanging anchor chain below. Though the deflector shield based on graviton tech enveloped the airship, it failed to protect the chains. In the ship's bridge, John saw the Alliance aircraft's intent and promptly ordered anti-aircraft fire. Shells filled the sky in a cloudlike wall, yet proved too sluggish for the rockets zooming in at over Mach 3. Rocket after rocket tore through the dense artillery cloud like javelins! Most zipped past the anchor chains, but five or six struck the chain, and the steel pod tethered to it! The fiery explosion severed the chain in two, the airship’s massive frame shuddered by the blast. The steel pod in mid-air plummeted to the ground, raising clouds of dust on the plains. Watching the fallen pod, Centurion Tout finally wore a trace of despair on his face. In his mind, Corps steel airships were invincible, unbeatable! Yet reality, visible before his eyes, had ruthlessly shattered his belief. He wasn’t the only one—Major Captain Woolf, about to board the pod, shared the hopelessness. He was stranded. The First Mechanized Infantry of Ginhall Port had reached him, and only two thousand-strong units remained on the west bank. These two units alone couldn’t fend off those ferocious foes! Indeed, twenty "Chimera" armored vehicles crossed the Eternal River’s bend onto the west bank, 37mm autocannons roaring to life, swiftly scattering the shoreline light infantry. With two armored regiments taking the higher ground to the west, Woolf finally gave up any thought of escape. White flags rose from the command vehicle. Reluctantly, he issued the surrender order. In the comm channel, Centurion Tout’s face turned ashen. “I said it’s over,” Edgewater taunted, then picked up Tout's fallen pistol. With a face covered in mud, utterly expressionless, Tout forced a question from his cracked lips. “Kill me.” Edgewater chuckled. “We don’t kill prisoners.” Tout burst with emotion, attempting to rise. “Then give me my gun!” But before he finished, a rifle butt knocked him down. The blow came from a Polor soldier. With murderous eyes, the soldier glared at the officer, eager to take his head. Since the Lion City Massacre, all Valorites were the same to him. He wished to see them all dead! Yet, Edgewater denied Tout his "honor," intervening to forestall his allied brother. Facing Tout, he looked at the man panting in the mud like a wild dog. “...I won’t do that. We’ll let you live until this war ends, let the victims of this war judge you, and take your sins to atone in hell.” Without another glance, Edgewater instructed someone to "watch him closely," then left. The battle on the ground was over. Whether trapped at the riverside or entrenched on the hills, the Valorites eventually surrendered. Maybe caring for their comrades’ well-being or saving ammo, the airship refrained from firing, ultimately retreating west to regroup with the main force. Watching the receding airship, Isherl wore a look of disbelief. “...We actually won.” “Don't get too proud—only this one.” Standing at the hill's edge, Edgewater gazed afar, eyes slightly narrowed. In the ominous black clouds, a barely discernible foreboding emerged. He knew its source. At the same time they achieved victory, four airships, rivaling the Horn, had reached West Sail Port, heading east. This was intel provided by allies from the South Sea Alliance and confirmed by Lofy. Currently, this information was synchronized to the official forum of "Wasteland OL." Seeing Edgewater's stern expression, Isherl sobered from her earlier confidence, adopting a more serious demeanor. "...What shall we do next?" “Next... is to celebrate, naturally.” Seeing Isherl on edge, Edgewater suddenly relaxed, a smile spreading across his face as he patted Isherl on the shoulder. "Lighten up! We just won a major battle, and from what our allies told me, they caught a big fish under that airship—an officer ranked as a Major Captain." "A Major Captain from the 360,000-unit?!" Isherl's face lit up with delight. Who could blame him for being so thrilled! Until just yesterday, they had been on the receiving end of the Corps' brutal assaults. The number of Polor officers fallen in battle was nearly too many to count, but now, they had finally gained some rightful dignity. Even though the capture was by the Alliance, it didn’t make much difference! "Yes, that's him, the arrogant fool who disregarded us. I'll have to thank him later... For being stubborn enough to insist on crossing this river." Seeing Isherl's delight, Edgewater squeezed his shoulder with a smile. "What did I say? That airship isn’t as terrifying as it seems." "Things will get better." To be continued.