Chapter 879 - This Game Is Too Realistic

Chapter 879: Counterattack! Vault 404, Browsing Room on Level B4. The holographic screen hovering above the coffee table was showing footage of airships crashing, including the fiery inferno that erupted afterwards. Hexia clicked her tongue, nonchalantly commenting on the brutality before turning away to return to her experiments. War didn’t pique her interest. Additionally, graviton-related technology wasn't her field of study. As for Yin Fang, he stood with arms crossed, eyes fixed on the two airships, seemingly calculating something in his mind. Sitting on the couch, Chu Guang also watched the holographic screen, but his focus was not typical. For example, he first noticed that the velocity curve of the falling airship wasn’t uniform; its acceleration was changing and fluctuating significantly. This is quite understandable. Firstly, the deflection efficiency of the deflection shield varies with different materials; generally speaking, the higher the atomic number, the stronger the deflection effect. The deflection shield is based on graviton interference, as is the gravity well following similar principles. Thus, materials with higher atomic numbers are more affected by gravitons, leading to stronger macroscopic interference effects. For instance, metals would fall faster than carbon-based lifeforms. Moreover, the non-uniform change in the airship's acceleration might also be partially attributed to the uneven distribution of gravitons on the surface of the gravity well. Besides that, the airship also encounters aerodynamic drag during its descent. However, delving further into this becomes highly academic, going beyond Chu Guang's knowledge scope. Just when Chu Guang was about to ask Yin Fang for his thoughts, Yin Fang suddenly uncrossed his arms and sighed. "...I didn't expect the academy's database to store such technology." Chu Guang wasn’t particularly surprised, having encountered even stranger phenomena since arriving in this world. "Is there something special about this technology? I mean... compared to other graviton-based technologies like deflection shields or anti-gravity devices." "Well... you've given me a tough question. Let's put it this way, theoretically, we could use a gravity well to create a singularity with infinite density…" Yin Fang paused, realizing Chu Guang might not follow, and then continued, “In simpler terms, it can be used not only to alter the force between macroscopic objects but also to create black holes.” Chu Guang did understand. In short, it’s a force capable of destroying planets. "However, this shouldn't be easy, right? From an energy consumption standpoint?" Yin Fang nodded. "It certainly isn't easy. To create a black hole large enough to swallow a star system, you’d need a stellar-level reactor at least... of course, this is just my hypothesis; I can't provide a conclusive answer without experimental proof." Perhaps in the distant future, humans might gain deeper insights into gravitons and find alternatives to stellar-level reactors. Just as humans once thought it impossible to fuse two atoms, they now harness energy from such processes. The civilization of Prosperity Era humanity had only just begun to touch on graviton-related technology, and most technologies developed were as if the blind were feeling an elephant; they hadn’t truly stood on the invisible dimension. "...Honestly, what surprises me most is that the academy entrusts us with such technology." Chu Guang inquired. "Is that a problem?" Yin Fang nodded, wearing a complex expression. "Of course it is, and it’s a significant problem... This technology reaching the singularity realm poses the greatest threat to them compared to plasma or electromagnetic acceleration technologies." He paused before continuing. "Neither missiles nor railguns can intercept a starship equipped with a warp engine and deflection shield. However, gravity can. With some modifications to this technology, we could not only close hyper-space passages in the Earth-Moon system but also pull orbiting starships back to the ground." To Yin Fang, this seemed the most improbable aspect—the academy handing over a dagger capable of potentially killing them to the alliance. Given their usual practices, Yin Fang instinctively suspected some trickery or hidden fallback by the academy. After hearing Yin Fang's perspective, a hint of surprise flickered across Chu Guang’s face but was soon replaced by an amused smile. "Perhaps it's their calculated judgment of risks and benefits." Although calling it annoying, the academy had indeed once again predicted his behavior correctly. Just as they anticipated his intervention after understanding the situation in Jinchuan Province, they were certain he wouldn’t misuse such epoch-defining technology. If the risk of occurrence is zero, then the risk itself can be ignored, leaving only benefits. Both sides could gain what they wanted from each other. The alliance needed the academy’s technology to transform the decaying old world, while the academy needed the alliance to build their ark to the new world. In fact, they had gambled correctly. Chu Guang wasn’t interested in harming others without benefiting himself. Or maybe it wasn't a gamble at all but rather an open scheme. The holographic screen continued to play, but with nothing novel to offer, only the raging flames remained. Having satisfied his curiosity, Yin Fang, like Hexia, didn’t stay to watch and turned to his own matters. Unlike someone with a perverse taste, Chu Guang wasn’t interested in watching the twisted fates of the Velantans in the flames, so he reached out and turned off the screen. Most were ordinary people swept up by the times. Those truly guilty weren’t in the fire, and judgment for them would come once everything ended. Xiao Qi, resting her chin on her hands and sitting on the desk organizer, remained silent for a long time before letting out a soft sigh once the browsing room fell quiet again. "…I wonder how many will perish in this fire." "I don’t know, maybe ten thousand, maybe tens of thousands," Chu Guang replied nonchalantly, as his gaze fell on another report lying on the desk corner. It was the report on the West Pacific Port massacre, now several months old. It had arrived on his desk with a heap of other documents, most of which were filed away, but this sheet remained, lingering. With so much happening recently, he had almost forgotten why it was left there originally. Chu Guang picked up the document and flipped through it. The flames that had engulfed three thousand lives seemed to be the source of it all. The cost paid by the Velantans in this inferno had long exceeded the number three thousand... ... As Chu Guang turned off the holographic screen, the fire in the western suburbs of Tian Du raged on. While Commander Ryan had ordered a retreat, retreat didn't signify surrender, and the Velantan soldiers withdrawing from ground zero hadn't given up resistance. To cover the strategic retreat of the main force, small southern legion units remained behind, putting up a staunch resistance against the advancing Brolan army and alliance volunteers. However, without artillery cover or air support, such resistance proved largely futile. Against the goblin corps hauling bombs and the roaring rocket launchers, the rear guard squads left behind barely lasted five minutes under the assault of Brolan soldiers before being overwhelmed. In an abandoned village, Petreluk, the leader of the 311 Thousand Troop, bore an expression of lingering fear. An hour ago, under the cover of two squads, he had fled here with his guards. But before he could catch his breath, gunfire erupted outside, followed by the roar of propellers and machine-gun fire overhead. The alliance's air force relentlessly pursued them, along with the Brolan soldiers doggedly following, rifles in hand. It seemed they were hellbent on reclaiming the humiliation of the past days, leaving no breathing room. Petreluk watched wide-eyed as an orange barrage of bullets rained from above, crashing through a tiled house straight ahead, none of the soldiers inside escaping. The frontline had been breached. Unable to mourn their fallen comrades, two machine gunners pressed forward over the rubble, only to run directly into advancing Brolan soldiers. A fierce firefight immediately erupted in the narrow alley. Under cover from his guards, Petreluk was moved to another partially collapsed barn. The chaotic battlefield left him wide-eyed with fear. His adjutant, panting heavily, pulled out a pistol, cocking it while anxiously glancing in the direction of the gunfire. However, the sound of shots was not coming from just one direction but from all around them. "Damn it! They're everywhere out there!" the adjutant groaned tremblingly, his dust-covered face filled with terror. Petreluk grabbed a nearby radio operator and yelled at him. "What about the command center? Have you made contact?!" The operator shook his head nervously, stammering as he replied, "Not yet... there seems to be some issue with their radio." "Damn it!" Petreluk cursed, glancing at the meteors streaking across the sky before turning his gaze forward. "Staying here is a death sentence! We need to find a way to break through!" The adjutant nodded nervously but didn’t speak. That much was obvious. The question was how to break through... As anxiety gripped them like ants on a hot pan, distant civilian houses and courtyard walls collapsed with a roar. Towering steel armor and tracks advanced directly forward like a bulldozer. Upon seeing the looming turret and grim co-axial machine gun, blood drained from everyone's faces. A head emerged from the turret, arm resting on the hatch edge. Holding a microphone from a loudspeaker, Mole shouted at the Velantan officers, "Listen up, drop your weapons and surrender. This is your last chance, you have three seconds to decide." Clearing his throat, Mole prepared to count down. Yet before he reached one, Petreluk immediately threw his pistol to the ground, snatched his adjutant's pistol, and tossed it next to the tracks. "I surrender!" Petreluk yelled towards the man atop the turret, raising his hands in surrender amidst his officers' astonished glances. He recognized this model of war machine. Surrendering to the alliance troops was preferable to being captured by Brolan soldiers. Seeing this sensible fellow, Mole gave a half-smirk. "You're lucky to have run into us." Capturing prisoners could earn massive points; the higher the rank, the more points they gained. With points from expansion packs redeemable for money and contribution points, players rarely mistreat captives, especially seasoned veterans. But if it were their allies next door, it would be different; getting beaten black and blue would be mild punishment. Leaving those words, Mole hadn’t the leisure to savor the captive's expression and ducked back into the turret, sealing the hatch. Soon, several players with assault rifles emerged from behind the tank, handcuffing the Velantan officers, their hands on their heads. All captives were rounded up in the village center under the guard of a couple of player squads. The rest of the players boarded infantry fighting vehicles, advancing with the tanks. The goblin corps' aircraft had already pinpointed their next target, an abundance of walking contribution points awaiting collection ahead. Meanwhile, not long after the skeletal corps left the village, a group of unfortunate Velantan soldiers was caught off guard on a nearby hill by guards led personally by Centurion Pikelevan. Two hundred troops tightly encircled twenty, leaving no gap in the encirclement. Hugging cover, the twenty young Velantan men attempted three breakouts, but aside from leaving three bodies behind, failed to impact. With reinforcements nowhere in sight and ammunition depleted, the expressions on the seventeen remaining men shifted from stoic to despair. Resistance had lost its meaning. Eventually, some recognized reality, attempting to throw their rifles from a trench, raising their hands in surrender while yelling to crawl out. Yet barely had they uttered surrender when a tossed-back rifle struck one on the head. "Damn it! Who said you could surrender? Pick the damn guns back up!" "Weren't you tough? Keep fighting!" Personally fetching and returning the rifle, Pikelevan cursed as he sheathed his sidearm, then grabbed a guard's rifle, fixing a bayonet. "Fix bayonets!" The adjutant stood startled by the sudden fierce command, unable to stop him, trailing after the reckless charge with a cry of "Charge!" Led by Centurion Pikelevan, two hundred guards roared forward, slashing the seventeen Velantan men huddled in the trench into pulp. Bloodthirsty, Pikelevan was lost to battle fury. Gripping a severed head, he descended the battlefield as a military reporter snapped a photograph. Noticing the camera aimed his way, Pikelevan cracked a smile. He appeared like a war god emerged from hell, drenched entirely in blood. Indeed, the man was ruthless. While several Brolan officers dared lead charges themselves, few centurions braved leaping into enemy masses for melee combat like Pikelevan, certainly not his commander, General Duvata. The blaze raged through the fields all night, blackening earth, melting steel to molten slag before subsiding with dawn’s rise. According to alliance war reports, in just this battle, the southern legion suffered losses exceeding forty thousand, with over 1,200 light and heavy vehicles destroyed. For Brolan, who coped under pressure for months, this victory felt immensely rewarding! By 8 a.m., the last resistant squad announced surrender. Upon hearing news of the front-line victory, sleepless all night, Abusrak finally exhaled a sigh of relief, emerging from the governor's mansion basement revitalized. Yet before he could rejoice, devastating news arrived from the heavens. The floating palace suspended ten meters above had less than twenty-four hours left before collapse... To be continued.