Chapter 877 - This Game Is Too Realistic

Chapter 877: Troops at the Gates In the desolate outskirts west of Gold Gallon Harbor, a group of Weyland captives in prison garb labored at a construction site. As one of the Alliance's followers, Gold Gallon Harbor upheld the distinguished tradition of the Alliance—war camps were always built by the prisoners themselves, only livable once completed. Here, there was no distinction between centurions or commandants, only supervisors and prisoners. Even Woolf had to do the same work as the soldiers. At the entrance of the prisoner camp, a duty soldier sat on a bench, legs crossed, browsing a newspaper. Suddenly, he smirked and cursed out loud. "Useless, idiots!" On the newspaper headline, strikingly bold white-on-black letters proclaimed: "Abusek Replaces Command! Akale County Falls!" Just half a month ago, those headlines celebrated a great victory in Akale County. Within just fifteen days, that fool had squandered the advantage. Worse yet, the newspaper detailed infuriating news! The 50th, 51st, and 52nd Divisions (ten-thousand-man units) suffered over fifty percent casualties, and the entire Death Corps was decimated! If the 11th and 3rd Divisions had not marched north to reinforce the Mammoth Nation but had stayed to defend alongside the three reinforcing divisions, the rout would not have been so disheartening! And the reinforcement excuse? Everyone knew the Southern Corps' target was the Celestial Capital! Marching north under the guise of aiding allies was nothing more than an attempt to preserve one's core forces to swoop back and reap the benefits once the capital was taken! The sound of the calculator keys tapping could be heard all the way in Gold Gallon Harbor! Watching his comrade's furious expression, a soldier leaning against a post chuckled and teased. "When did you start believing that guy wasn't a total waste?" The soldier with a rifle slung over his shoulder also chuckled. "What does a dock worker know about battle? Even I could do better." The soldier leaning against the post attempted to mediate. "Well, he was a soldier before he worked the docks." "Oh, the Gray Wolf Army... Turns out he's a swimming champion, no less." "Hahaha, damn!" "Ah... Why do we always end up with these nincompoops? Can't we have at least one competent leader?" The soldier holding the newspaper sighed, exasperation written all over his face. Either they know warfare but not governance, or they manage governance but not battle. The Alliance wasn't stingy with their help, including some assistance from the Corps currently beating them. It shouldn't have been like this. So many compatriots had awoken, and yet a leader truly deserving of their loyalty never emerged. The seasoned veteran, who had remained silent all this while, flicked his spent cigarette onto the ground and spoke blandly. "Perhaps it's fate." He had served since the time of the Duke of Nehekhara, much before these young lads. Compared to them, he saw things more detachedly. Abusek wasn't anything stellar; a mere swimmer in the river was still leagues ahead of Witch Camel and Nehekhara. In his view, a flawless being devoid of moral flaws, diligent and selfless, powerful and wise could only be a god or a deceiver. Only a fraudster could fulfill all of people's expectations, no matter how demanding and bizarre they might sound. Especially skilled deceivers—they could always manage to explain things away when doubts arose. In that regard, Abusek wasn't particularly clever, deceiving the Alliance only once. If he had been able to turn black into white, he wouldn’t be so widely reviled. Hearing the frustrated murmurs, the prisoners distanced themselves cautiously. Due to various reasons, in recent times, survivors from the Boro Province held unprecedented hostility toward Weyland people, so much so that locals couldn't help but spit or throw objects upon seeing their noses. Although the on-duty soldiers would intervene, they seldom showed any kindness to them. It seemed as though everything had reverted to two centuries ago when the Weyland held the lowest status. Perhaps even worse than back then. No one dared provoke the soldier, burying their heads in work, pretending to be busy. Yet some secretly felt satisfaction or even cheer. After all, causing the Boro people such rage likely meant they suffered a loss on the front lines. For those toiling away as captives here, no news could be better. When Chief Ryne's troops arrived, they'd finally be able to go home! At six in the evening, as the sun hung low on the horizon, a bell tolled in the prison camp. It marked the end of the workday and the signal for supper. The duty soldier tossed the tattered newspaper aside, saluted the incoming shift, and marched into the neighboring barracks, rifle in hand. They needed to return their weapons and uniforms before clocking out, leading into their personal time. The discarded newspaper became a coveted item among the prisoners. They gathered eagerly to snatch it up, curious to see what had unfolded on the front lines. The explosive news on the main headline didn’t disappoint their expectations. Eyes lit with excitement, many prisoners clenched their fists in exhilaration. "Damn, serves them right!" "Beautiful strike!" "Crush those bastards!" Yet exhilaration aside, they were prisoners on enemy soil and didn't dare celebrate overtly, instead delighting secretly in spots free from overseer watch, passing the good news among themselves quietly. The newspaper eventually reached Woolf. Removing his grimy work gloves, the haggard old general took a glance at the paper, breaking into a brief smile. However, soon his brow furrowed slightly with concern. "...The 30th Unit lingering in Akale County for almost half a month is not a good omen." Beside him, his adjutant raised an eyebrow. "You think Ryne might lose?" Woolf shook his head, sighing. "Hard to say." According to the original plan, they should have been at the gates of the Celestial Capital by now, but they'd been stuck by the thorn that was Akale County for far too long. Our plans have always fallen behind reality since this war began. Including the previous bombardment of Lions City. Ryne intended to crush the resistance will of the Boro Province survivors with such tactics, but the result was starkly opposite. It unified the once fragmented elements, leading to their first major setback in Akale County. His evaluation of Abusek differed from the locals— the man was a wily old fox to the extreme. If Janusz had been their opponent, the battle wouldn't have been so grueling. Just then, rumbling sounds of wheels echoed from the highway leading to the prisoner camp. Woolf glanced towards the camp's exit, spotting wave after wave of soldier-loaded trucks speeding down the road toward the inland docks. His expression momentarily froze. Not at the military trucks transporting soldiers, but at the soldiers perched atop them. Those black, ominous gas masks stirred an instinctual fear in him… It was the Death Corps! Weren't they annihilated? How had they returned?! The surprise wasn't Woolf's alone, but also from Commander Taut and other Weyland officers familiar with the Death Corps. All carried expressions of dismay, as if seeing ghosts. "Damn it..." A commander clenched his fist, disbelief and fear flickering in his eyes. Just how many of these guys are there? Meanwhile, on a truck heading to the docks, Edge Sailer peered at the nearby docks, squinting. Last battle he hadn't had his fill before a 200mm shell took him out. Hopefully, in this defense of the Celestial Capital, luck won't be as sour... ... After a week's transit, the reborn Death Corps once again set foot on Boro Province soil, heading resolutely toward the front line. And not just them. The formerly annihilated Skeleton Corps also rolled back with fresh tanks fresh off the assembly line. The decisive battle would take place at the Celestial Capital. It wasn't just the heart of Boro, but also held the Academy's gifts for the Corps. An unprecedented scale conflict brewed on the horizon. Simultaneously, at the bend of the great river in Akale County, three airships with broken wings finally completed their final checks. These majestic steel fortresses hovered like artificial clouds, with their menacing cannons already pointed towards the Celestial Capital. Furthermore, the railway connecting West Sail Port and Lion City had been repaired and extended to the banks of the Everflowing River. Trainloads of brand-new equipment were being transported to the front lines, including ammunition needed for the front-line troops and airships, as well as self-propelled artillery and tanks that had bypassed the maritime blockade. In the face of absolute power, any trickery was nothing more than a paper tiger. The Alliance's operations on the Southern Corps’ supply lines had some effect but did not change the fact that the Southern Corps’ front was advancing forward. Inside the command vehicle, Ryne, the chief commander, gazed at the troops readying on the holographic screen, finally allowing a hint of joy to lift his tense lips. He was eager to see what those who stood like grasshoppers before this iron torrent would use to withstand such might! With this thought, he slowly raised his right hand and, with measured firmness, gestured forward. "Move out!" Beside him, his adjutant, flushed with excitement upon receiving the order, straightened his back and shouted robustly, "Yes, sir!" With the command to advance, the five airships collectively raised their anchors and moved toward the Celestial Capital. Simultaneously, land forces moved forward in great numbers! Trucks rolled across the muddy ground, leaving deep, broad tracks on the soft plains. Within the trucks sat Weyland soldiers, armed to the teeth. Some donned sophisticated exoskeletons, others heavy body armor, all with fierce eyes eager for the imminent hunt like wolves on the prairie. In addition to the Weyland soldiers, there were also men from the Glorious Army. Their eyes, fierce like hyenas tailing the wolf pack for scraps. Their shining bayonets served as their fangs! They would tackle the toughest challenges and pave the way for the Southern Corps with their flesh and blood! Beyond infantry and artillery, the proud iron tidal wave of the Weylands surged forth! Nearly eight hundred "Conqueror" Model 10 tanks, escorted by almost two thousand light tanks and armored vehicles, formed a moving fortress wall! These tanks, products of the Western Corps’ factories, were delivered to West Sail Port through the perilous journey by daredevil merchants. The rumble of engines and clatter of treads shook the earth as if in an earthquake! Farmers in the fields, seeing this spectacular scene, wore looks of terror. Never had they witnessed something so astounding, nor could they fathom how one could stand against such a terrifying foe… Faced with the concentrated assault of the Corps, old forces loyal to General Yudono fought to the death. Nearly a hundred thousand troops mobilized from the frontline stretches, charging relentlessly toward the territory from eastern Akale County to the western outskirts of the Celestial Capital. Coordinating with the Alliance's air forces, they waged dozens of resistances across nearly a hundred kilometers of advance. Even in futility, like a mantis trying to stop a chariot, they did not flinch, choosing to fight tooth and nail, attempting to bite a chunk from the Southern Corps! A viscous path of blood laid a road of death, under which the soil hid human bones at nearly every inch. Among these were those of the Boro people, Weylands, and also clones and players. Both sides were locked in a blood feud! In nearly a month of brutal conflict, the essence and demeanor of soldiers from both Boro and the Southern Corps underwent earth-shaking changes. Initially, it would take a team of ten Boro soldiers to match a single Weyland, but later, the ratio became 5:1, even 3:1. Earlier, no one thought they could achieve final victory, but as the fight dragged on they gained not only experience but also an unequivocal resolve to win. On the Weyland side, however, the situation was utterly different. Prolonged losses and tough advancement made the broadcasts seem more and more like hollow lies. The local survivors were far from weak as the Southern Corps' high command claimed. They made traps and dug holes in the forest, attacked with rocket launchers or explosives, jumping suddenly from trees like madmen on a suicide mission. Even veteran colonial troops faced this unprecedented challenge and found themselves caught off guard time and again. In just a month, their wide-eyed fervor and bloodlust began to fade, replaced by numbness and hesitation. Especially among newly enlisted soldiers. Luckily, this bloody ordeal did not drag on for long. After overwhelming Yudono’s old forces and breaking through Chief Duweite’s 150,000 troops, they finally pushed the front line to twenty kilometers away from the Celestial Capital, on its northwestern outskirts. Here once stood a riverside town named Luder, home to twenty or thirty thousand survivors. But due to pestilence and war, the town had been abandoned, with only ruins remaining. Corpses washed down from upstream lined the riverbanks, and the muddy water reeked of decay, appearing like the river leading to the underworld. In his command vehicle, Ryne gazed through the holographic screen at the nearby Celestial Capital and its floating palace, his smile growing ever brighter. Finally, they had arrived… His forces needed but one more step to claim the capital of Boro. This would be the war’s turning point, much like his victory in Akale County. Though it was unfortunate that they hadn't managed to capture Woolf and the others, achieving ultimate victory meant General Guryon would likely be lenient. Just as Ryne mused about opening a bottle of champagne to celebrate, a communication request from the Captain of the Horn Horn ship appeared on the screen. "We're right at the edge of the Celestial Capital. When do you plan to enter the city?" Ryne tersely replied, "Night is falling soon; I plan to rest the troops and advance in the morning." Clones didn’t fare well in night operations. Daytime was necessary to maximize the artillery bombardment and clone swarm assault tactics. Given the continuous guerilla attacks, his men had suffered considerable losses recently. If possible, he wanted the final engagement to be slightly easier or at least more gratifying. Unlike the complicated fight at Akale County. Anyway, in his eyes, the Celestial Capital was already in his pocket. He could afford to take his time. Noting that John, the commander on the other side of the screen, appeared to have something to say, Ryne raised his eyebrow lightly and teased with a smile. "Can't wait already?" John shrugged and said, "How could I? I just wanted to remind you not to forget our agreement." According to the agreement between Ryne and the Air Force, the floating palace would be claimed as a prize of war to construct an unprecedented steel airship. In exchange, the Southern Corps' air force requested priority support for the eastern battlefield, focusing all efforts on taking the Celestial Capital before aiding the northern front. Now, they were on the brink of final victory. He worried some impatient reckless person might blow up the palace. Considering this guy's antics in Lion City, such an outcome wasn’t out of the question. Listening to John’s reminder, Ryne chuckled and said, "Relax, I won't forget, and besides, I have no interest in that thing." John replied with a hint of profundity, "I know, I just mean, once your troops enter the city, try to restrain them from torching the palace." Ryne promised convincingly, "I will keep them in check." After all, he wasn’t an arsonist, not someone who’d just burn cities for entertainment. Unless, of course, the survivors of the Celestial Capital showed unexpectedly intense resistance. If that happened, he might consider doing something drastic, perhaps to dismantle their fighting spirit. Maybe let the palace fall or something. Once the communication ended, Ryne prepared to order the front-line forces to launch a feigned attack on the western suburbs of the Celestial Capital, hoping to unnerve the defenders through the night. Just then, another communication request appeared on the screen, from an unfamiliar source outside the camp. Clearly, there was only one possibility: this video call was coming from the Alliance! As he glanced at the blinking communication request on the screen, Ryne narrowed his eyes slightly, then sneered coldly before reaching out to press the connect button. Answering a call wouldn't reveal his location, as the signal transmission receiver wasn't in his vehicle, and the relay station was at least three kilometers away. He was curious about how his opponent would plead in this dire situation. However, to his surprise, the figure that appeared on the screen wasn't an Alliance officer but a middle-aged man in a white lab coat. His appearance was quite plain, with a pair of non-prescription glasses perched on his nose—someone who would blend into a crowd if he wore different clothes. Eyeing this peculiar figure, Ryne squinted and cautiously probed with a dangerous tone. "…You’re from the Academy." The man smiled mildly and nodded slightly as he spoke. "Indeed, I am. B-grade researcher Yang Kai, under the Department of Research, currently handling affairs in the Boro Province area." Hearing something that seemed amusing, Ryne scoffed with disdain. “Handling Boro Province affairs? How many ten-thousand-man units do you have? What makes you think you can talk to me?” Yang Kai shook his head, speaking gently. “Regrettably, fighting isn’t our forte; the esteemed Chief and Doctor Jielun didn’t entrust me with any ten-thousand-man units.” Ryne's eyes narrowed into slits, a fleeting hint of cautious respect flickering within his pupils. Truth be told, he preferred facing enterprises over the scheming machinations of the Academy. At least the former was a visible opponent. “I warn you… This isn’t your place to be. If you value the peace you enjoy, you’d best stay out.” Yang Kai chuckled softly. “How could this be meddling? We are among the witnesses of the ancient treaty, and also of the Falcon City Armistice Agreement… Now that someone has torn up the agreement, it is only natural we intervene.” After a brief pause, he continued. “Do you think the peace we enjoy fell from the sky?” Ryne snorted, disinterestedly cleaning his ear with his pinky. “I don’t understand what you’re saying, nor did I sign any of those pieces of scrap paper.” Yang Kai sighed lightly, expressing regret. “Ah… I knew you'd say that. Reasoning with you is akin to playing music to a cow. To handle uncivilized beasts, you need guns and whips.” Ryne laughed derisively, cursing. “Then come and face me head-on if you dare, stop hiding behind speeches.” Yang Kai nodded. “As you wish.” With that, his faint blue figure disappeared from the holographic screen. Ryne blinked in brief surprise, eyebrows furrowing as he swiftly scanned his surroundings. His instincts told him those slugs in the swamps were up to some trick. However, after waiting a full minute, nothing happened. It was as if those parting words were mere bluster, ending with a whimper instead of sparking action. His taut nerves relaxed, and Ryne chuckled coldly. “…Hah, trying to scare me.” With a career built on the battlefield, how could he be intimidated by a mere slug? Meanwhile, aboard a research vessel in the Celestial Palace Square, Yang Kai, reclining in the pilot’s seat, slowly opened his eyes. Jiang Xuezhou stood nearby, clutching a tablet with a serious expression. “Professor, our device is ready… Should we activate it now?” “No need to wait any longer; waiting is futile. We've already given those big-noses enough chances.” Nodding slightly, Yang Kai gripped the armrest and sat up straight from the recliner, accepting the tablet his student handed over. He tapped his index finger twice on the tablet, skimming over the pre-set parameters before dragging the floating energy bar from 0% to 100%. After everything was set, Yang Kai leisurely gazed out at the night sky beyond the cockpit, adopting a look of anticipation. “The efficacy of this ‘Gravity Well’… shall be demonstrated by you, General, for our allies.” To be continued.