Open Fire on My Coordinates!

"...Who says only those standing in the light are heroes?" Humming an off-key tune, the plump rat shook the metal canister in his paws, glug-glug-glugging fuel across the deserted rooftop. Ever since unlocking his "hidden class" and becoming the blade beneath the revered Administrator's cloak, Qiangren Suonan had felt like a brand-new man. He had rediscovered the true meaning of his existence. Sure enough, compared to posturing on the front lines, skulking in the shadows to cause mayhem suited his playstyle far better. So what if nobody knew about it? It was enough that the Administrator knew. Having wrapped his head around that, Qiangren Suonan felt at least half the credit for the plague of rats in Xizhou City belonged to him. "Man-things, die! Die!" Snickering wickedly, he tipped the metal canister back and forth until the very last drop drained out. With that finished, he straightened up and glanced left and right. Seeing no one around, he darted along the safe route his lackeys had scouted out, slipping away across the rooftops. A pack of mutant rats with metal canisters strapped to their backs scurried eagerly after him. Naturally, Qiangren Suonan hadn't crafted those canisters himself. Brother Mosquito had flown out under cover of night and dropped them into the woods three kilometers outside Qingshi County, and Qiangren Suonan had scuttled over to retrieve them following the waypoints marked on his VM. The canisters had been strung together on ropes, packed with biomass fuel laced with thickeners and combustion catalysts, and drifted down beneath parachutes. Although quite a few had been torn open by branches or cracked upon hitting the ground, the vast majority had survived intact. Over the course of a month and a half, relying on his intimate knowledge of the terrain and his short, nimble frame, Qiangren Suonan had hauled more than twenty-one hundred canisters back to his hideout in Qingshi County—transporting nearly 11.2 tons of fuel mix in total! Late the previous night, while everyone else was logged off, he had received his quest: pour the thickened fuel mixture over the rooftops across the vulnerable sectors of the marauders' northern defense line. The assault on Qingshi County was scheduled to begin at dawn, and he had learned the news before any other player. With the help of his rat minions, Qiangren Suonan had already completed the bulk of his assignment. His rodent underlings were a bit dim-witted and couldn't handle the task of pouring fuel, but they could at least follow the simple command: "Follow the boss." In truth, they had no idea what Qiangren Suonan was up to, nor did they understand the purpose of that foul-smelling, sticky liquid. But traveling in a great swarm filled them with immense excitement. Even the humans capable of crushing them with a single stomp showed an instinctive flash of panic whenever they appeared. It made them feel as though they had conquered the city. And that fattest one who had united them was their king! *** "What's that smell?" On the northern side of Qingshi County. The semi-collapsed five-story rooftop was crammed full of logs and concrete. Garbage ubiquitous across the wasteland choked the crumbling building, leaving only a narrow firing slit where a water-cooled light machine gun was mounted. Standing at the entrance of the bunker, Hei Feng wrinkled his nose and muttered, "Why's it stink so bad?" He had caught a strange whiff moments ago. Evidently, he wasn't the only one. Feng Si, squatting beside the machine gun, wrinkled his nose as well. "Hiss... I smell it too." This was the sentry post on the north side of Qingshi County. Not far from them lay the only highway connecting Qingshi County to urban Xizhou City—though that stretch of road had decayed so badly it could hardly be called a road anymore. Their advisor, Bernie, seemed to have held a grudge against trees in his past life. For months, he had been mobilizing them to chop down timber, build fortifications, and reinforce shelters. He hadn't just stationed heavy firepower to the south facing Yuanxi Town; he had also launched extensive construction toward the north near Xizhou City. He had even suggested to Lord Lion Fang that a hundred slaves be dispatched to repair that battered highway. In the advisor's words: terrain is static, but people are adaptable. The enemy might not attack from the nearest approach; they could easily flank around their sides or even strike from behind. Sturdy defenses and clear supply lines would give them far more tactical initiative. To be honest, though, Hei Feng doubted whether the enemy would truly have the guts to march right into their clutches. They had an entire thousand-man unit garrisoned here. The gear they had inherited from the Legion wasn't just a few rifles; they had over a dozen 100mm artillery pieces and trucks to tow them. On top of that, tens of thousands of their people were stationed right behind them in Xizhou City. If this place came under attack, massive reinforcements could reach the front lines within a day at most. Even so, that lingering stench kept Hei Feng on edge. "I'll go check it out." Leaving those words behind, he grabbed the Ripper rifle leaning against the doorframe and traced the pungent odor. He headed downstairs and stepped onto the street. A light breeze brushed across his face. Judging that the scent drifted from the roof of the adjacent building, Hei Feng chambered a round with heightened vigilance and crept toward it. Keeping his footsteps light, he mounted the stairs. Yet when he reached the top floor and nudged open the half-shut door, he witnessed a sight he would never forget for the rest of his life. A plump rat, standing nearly half as tall as a man on its hind legs, was swaying a metal canister in its paws while humming a bizarre, discordant tune, slopping dark, oily fuel everywhere. The sight was utterly horrifying. Not only was a rat speaking human words, it was actually singing. The absurdity of it made Hei Feng wonder if he was hallucinating. He froze on the spot, his hands going numb. The fat rat hadn't noticed him. However, the smaller rats surrounding the creature immediately spotted the uninvited guest. They bared their fangs and hissed a low, menacing growl. Sensing the commotion behind him, Qiangren Suonan turned around. His beady, round eyes locked straight onto the marauder at the door. A grin crept onto the rat's face—one he fancied would smooth over the awkwardness. Without hesitation, he dropped the metal canister and drew the pistol tucked into his belt. Yet the marauder was no novice. Shaking off his shock in an instant, he pulled the trigger even a fraction of a second faster than Qiangren Suonan. *Bang!* Gunfire erupted across the rooftop. Qiangren Suonan let out a muffled grunt. A rifle bullet tore straight through his chest, knocking him backward against a rusted water tank. Even so, the shot didn't take him out of the fight. Raising his pistol, he fired three consecutive rounds toward the doorway, driving back the marauder who was preparing to charge in. Bullets whipped past inches above Hei Feng's head, making his hair stand on end. He couldn't comprehend what was happening. A mutant rat half the height of a man was terrifying enough. But speaking human speech and splashing fuel on the ground?! And it drew a pistol to shoot at him?! He hadn't touched any drugs last night! Around then, his comrade on the neighboring rooftop seemed to hear the gunfire and shouted across, "Brother, what's going on over there?!" Hei Feng fired toward the fat rat cowering behind cover, screaming in terror at the top of his lungs, "A rat! A rat half the size of a man! Damn it! He's shooting back at me!" "A rat?!" His comrade was plainly bewildered, falling silent in disbelief. Hei Feng knew he couldn't explain it, so he gritted his teeth and kept firing, hoping the patrol would hear the shots and come rushing to back him up. Though a rat suffered no "clumsy limbs" debuff, handling human weapons was still awkward in every conceivable way. Having taken a slug to the chest, Qiangren Suonan felt his life draining rapidly. With every breath, copious blood surged from his gut. *Damn it! This Constitution stat is useless as shit!* *Whatever. My respawn cooldown is only twenty-four hours anyway...* Having emptied the last round from his magazine, Qiangren Suonan resolved himself. He tossed aside the trembling pistol and used his quivering fingers to pull out a matchbox. A tiny flicker of flame ignited at his fingertips. It was a feeble flame. Yet the instant that glimmer appeared, both the rat minions trembling nearby and the marauder crouching by the stairwell recoiled in stark, ghost-struck terror. "No!" Hei Feng yelled in panic. But the fat rat had already dropped the match to the floor, bursting into shrill, maniacal laughter. "Hahaha! Man-things—" "Die!" *Whoosh!* Flames roared up, swallowing the plump rat whole. Standing amid the inferno and shrieking with wild laughter, Qiangren Suonan looked like a fiend crawling out of hell. The raging fire around him transformed the entire rooftop into a blazing purgatory in an instant. The fire surged along the fuel on the ground and followed the damp trails left by the pack of rats, swiftly spreading and igniting every canister strapped to their backs. The burning rats shrieked and flailed frantically, leaping and bounding in every direction. Before burning to ash, they carried the flames onto adjacent rooftops and balconies. The crackle of gunfire and rolling plumes of smoke soon drew the attention of a nearby patrol squad. A ten-man unit rushed over to support. Rifle in hand, Hei Feng stumbled out of the smoke in complete disarray, running straight into a decurion who grabbed him by the collar. "What happened to the fire here?!" Meeting that murderous gaze, Hei Feng stammered, "A—a rat! A rat half as tall as a man! It was pouring fuel upstairs! When I found it, it struck a match..." Hearing this nonsensical babble, the decurion froze for a heartbeat before roaring in fury, "Do you think I'm a fucking idiot?!" Now was not the time for debate. The decurion released Hei Feng's collar, ordered his men to keep an eye on the suspected arsonist, and instructed the rest to put out the blaze immediately. Qingshi County had no lakes or rivers; their water supply relied primarily on purified rainwater and a few wells. If the fire continued to spread unchecked, the entire southern sector of Qingshi County could turn into an inferno! Just then, an ear-splitting howl tore through the sky. Before the decurion could realize what was happening, a torrential storm of gunfire screamed downward, pulverizing the concrete street beneath their feet into powder! Concrete debris shattered by incoming rounds lashed across the street corner, reducing a battered concrete wall to bare rebar. Hei Feng, who had hit the dirt in the nick of time, barely survived. But the comrade beside him wasn't so lucky—three 10mm autocannon rounds tore away half his torso! Looking up at the "skyfire" descending from the heavens, the surviving rats stopped fleeing. To their eyes, the fire falling from above was their chieftain's glorious handiwork, and those haughty humans were scattering in terror beneath the majesty of the Great Horned Rat. Far from feeling betrayed by their boss, the terror in their eyes shifted entirely to worship. *Too cool! Absolutely majestic!* *** The roar of the autocannons receded into the distance. With his eardrums practically ruptured, Hei Feng crawled out from the rubble with great difficulty. Yet the sight that met his eyes froze his breath in his throat. The decurion who had seized his collar moments earlier had been ground into mincemeat by the storm of lead. Several marauders nearby had likewise been torn apart on the spot by the strafing run. Not far from Hei Feng, a marauder with a rifle strapped to his back lay face down on the ground, his lower body reduced to a mangled mess of blood and flesh, leaving only incoherent whimpers and groans. Severed limbs and shattered bones littered the surroundings. All of this had happened in the span of a single breath. Terror reflected in Hei Feng's wide eyes. The rifle in his hands shook uncontrollably, his legs trembling beneath him. Sparks drifted steadily down from the blazing rooftops in the wind. The fire had already spread to the streets, and a thunderous boom erupted in the distance. Whether an ammunition cache had cooked off in the inferno or a bomb had dropped from the planes, he couldn't tell. Hei Feng tilted his head up, staring blankly at the sky. Planes circled overhead like a swarm of mosquitoes, spitting tongues of flame from their noses to strafe around the periphery of the fire. With every dive, countless lives were reaped. "...Devils." Rats that spoke human tongue, flying crosses spitting fire, and that demon-like screeching... All of it felt like harbingers of doomsday. Babbling in sheer panic, Hei Feng didn't even have the presence of mind to consider who their enemy was. Dragging legs that felt like lead, he ran toward the machine gun bunker. On a nearby rooftop, that water-cooled machine gun was spitting tongues of flame, firing frantically into the sky in a futile attempt at resistance. Before long, an airplane screamed directly over the firing position, followed by an aerial bomb plummeting straight into the spitting building. A blinding explosion shot skyward. A searing shockwave slammed square into Hei Feng's chest, throwing him backward just as he was rushing to reinforce his comrades. By the time he wiped the blood and debris from his face and struggled up from the ruins, the five-story building housing the machine gun bunker was down to three and a half stories. As for the bunker built from concrete and logs, not even scraps remained. Witnessing the scene before him, Hei Feng could no longer contain his terror. He turned and sprinted blindly away. He didn't know where he was going; he only wanted to get as far from this street as humanly possible. And similar scenes... Were playing out across Qingshi County with the arrival of the Goblin Corps' fighter squadron... *** "Weapons free!" "Repeat, weapons free!" Bullets whizzed past behind him. Surging with adrenaline, Mosquito shouted with glee, shoving the control stick sideways to execute a barrel roll. He had figured it out. While the marauders' machine guns packed serious punch and a high rate of fire, their anti-air accuracy was atrocious. Lacking tracer rounds to correct their trajectories, these marauders had zero anti-air experience and could only fire blindly into the sky by feel. All he needed were a few simple evasive maneuvers to shake the fire tracking his wings, then swing around to hammer the positions pinning down his wingmen. The morning calm was shattered by the clamor of gunfire. Stray rounds crisscrossed the sky, and the entirety of Qingshi County felt like a powder keg that had been set ablaze. The fuel Qiangren Suonan had poured across the rooftops was ignited by tracer rounds packed with magnesium-aluminum powder and phenolic resin. The entire southern sector of Qingshi County transformed into a sea of fire. Marauders who failed to wake in time burned to death in their beds, while burning streets cut through the battlefield like walls of flame. The marauders quickly found themselves in a dilemma. If they tried to fight the fire, they would have to mobilize a massive workforce. But once crowds gathered, the planes circling overhead would immediately pounce on them. Yet if they let the flames rage on, the supplies stockpiled in the southern sector would soon be reduced to ash. Inside the department store. Lion Fang braced himself against a table as he stood up, grabbing the messenger who had sprinted in from outside in a mix of shock and rage. "Where the hell did those planes come from?!" "I—I don't know! They came from the south... fifty—no, fifty-two of them! They opened fire on us out of nowhere without warning!" Under the chieftain's glaring stare, the marauder's face was white with terror, stammering for half a minute without piecing together a coherent sentence. Just thirty seconds earlier, two aerial bombs had struck the department store. The deafening concussion had nearly robbed everyone inside of their hearing. Fortunately, this pre-war building was exceptionally solid. The two bombs had merely sheared off some concrete without causing noticeable structural damage. Even so, it was terrifying enough. "Fifty-two planes?! Are you sure?" Listening to the messenger's report, Bernie's face filled with astonishment. The marauder swallowed hard and nodded vigorously. "I'm sure! I counted carefully!" Bernie's heart sank. A month and a half ago, according to intelligence brought by the apostles of the Church of the Torch, he had assumed those blue coats had at most two or three planes to their name. He had never expected several dozen to show up all at once... Though they were antiquated propeller-driven craft, against a Bone Chewer Tribe lacking anti-air capability, that aerial firepower was undeniably devastating. He could deduce with his eyes closed that the enemy's ground forces were almost certainly on the march. Yuanxi Town had no copper mine to begin with; that railway heading toward Yuanxi Town had been built specifically to take their lives! In the past, Bernie would have advised Lion Fang to pull back, abandon the position to preserve their strength, and wait for the main force to concentrate and crush them with sheer numbers. Yet the enemy had aircraft... Retreating in any direction would be suicide. Lion Fang looked frantically at his advisor. "What should we do?!" Bernie ground his teeth. "Don't panic! They've only gained a slight edge in the air, but the ground still belongs to us. Without ground forces to back them up, their planes can hardly deal decisive damage to us." "The blue coats' forces are clearly en route. But since they chose to strike first with aircraft, their numbers are likely limited. They intend to sow chaos from above to create an opening for their ground troops. We must not lose our composure first!" Lion Fang was a battle-hardened chiliarch after all. Though momentarily shaken, he soon regained his cool. Watching Lion Fang steady himself, Bernie offered his counsel in a low voice. "Have your men seek nearby cover. Emphasize that no one is to leave cover to engage the planes! Order all ground machine gun posts, regardless of caliber, to elevate their barrels and engage airborne targets!" While hardly an ideal solution, there was no better alternative. If they allowed those planes to expend their payloads and fly away uncontested, only to rearm and return alongside the ground assault, that would be the true death sentence! They were only propeller planes. Rounds of 7mm and above were more than sufficient to inflict critical damage on them! "In addition, you must immediately detach a century to do everything possible to contain the blaze to the south, protecting our ammunition depots and firing points elsewhere! Meanwhile, alert the centuries on the northern perimeter to prepare for contact!" "Xizhou City is less than twenty kilometers away. Our main force will certainly have noticed the commotion." "As long as we hold until reinforcements arrive, victory will be ours!" *** "Spread out, boys!" Fire from the ground suddenly intensified. Nearly every machine gun position angled its barrels skyward, creating considerable trouble for the diving gliders. Decisive as ever, Mosquito ordered the squadron to scatter, prioritizing strategic targets marked on the VM map and treating enemy personnel as secondary targets, fighting independently. The dispersed harassment tactic worked; the web of anti-air fire was diluted as the flight formation split apart. Even so, two unfortunate souls took hits while diving. A W-2 snapped a wing midair and plowed straight into a rooftop machine gun bunker. Another Moth had its cockpit riddled with holes; though the plane kept flying, the pilot's VM had been blown clean out by stray rounds. Watching the two smoking aircraft, Mosquito felt a pang of heartache, silently mourning his ace pilots. "Good brothers!" "Your boss will avenge you!" Attrition continued within the flight formation, with planes crashing from time to time, yet not a single pilot fled or bailed out. Everyone had seen red. Pilots in the sky and infantry on the ground alike. Huddled in the ruins, marauders were no longer content with wasting machine gun rounds; many raised their rifles toward the sky, firing blindly regardless of whether they could hit anything. Mosquito's wings caught several rounds in the end. A 7mm machine gun bullet even punched through the cockpit, grazing his left thigh as it whizzed out. Glancing out of the corner of his eye at the VM strapped to his leg, Mosquito calmly gripped the control stick and lowered his altitude, shaking off the incoming volley. As his altitude plummeted, the fire behind him dropped off sharply. Ignoring the light machine gun chasing his tail, Mosquito accelerated directly toward an ammunition depot marked on the map. The instant the reticle aligned, he slammed the release button with practiced ease. A 100-kilogram bomb detached from the belly and plunged straight through a crumbling concrete wall. With a muffled detonation followed by a brief delay, geysers of flame shot dozens of meters into the air. Almost the moment Mosquito pulled up the nose, secondary explosions popped and roared down the entire street, crackling like festive firecrackers on New Year's Eve. Marauders scrambling for their lives were instantly consumed by billowing smoke and flying shrapnel, leaving countless dead and wounded in their wake. "Hahaha! Happy New Year!" The tension on his face finally melted into exhilaration. Having dropped his last aerial bomb, Mosquito locked onto an artillery position on the southern side of the map. Two 100mm artillery pieces were tucked beneath a wooden shelter. The marauders seemed to know the alliance possessed aircraft, so they had camouflaged several strategic positions with trash and debris. What they didn't know was that the New Alliance's eyes were not only watching from the sky; a pair of sharp, gleaming eyes had also been lurking among the rubble below. Over the past month and a half, a certain rat had thoroughly scouted their positions. Where the ammo depots were, where the barracks lay, where the firing points stood—even the command post hidden in the department store had been categorized and pinpointed on the map. Though no one occupied the artillery site at the moment, Mosquito still dropped low and unloaded a burst from his 10mm autocannon, giving the sheltered position a fiery bath to ensure no one could reach the guns once the ground assault commenced. Just as Mosquito finished strafing and prepared to pull up, a long tongue of flame suddenly burst from a dark window not far away. *Rat-tat-tat!* Wood splinters sprayed from his left wing as it snapped in two mid-flight. Skimming over the rooftops, the W-2 ground-attack aircraft instantly lost its balance! "Fuck!" Mosquito barely managed a curse before the fuselage slammed hard into the rooftop below, rolling sideways and crashing through the wall of a semi-collapsed two-story building. The impact left Mosquito's head ringing, knocking him offline on the spot. It took him ten minutes of frantic reconnecting before he finally managed to log back in. When he blinked his blurry eyes open, he found his plane wedged into the building's outer wall, the tail section dangling in midair and the nose lodged inside the masonry. A twisted length of rebar had pierced the nose, cleaving the propeller and motor in two, stopping mere inches from the control stick. Thank goodness it had stopped. If it had gone an inch further, he wouldn't have needed to bother reconnecting—he would have been waiting on the forums for the battle report. He had really overplayed his hand this time. "Holy crap... that was intense." Mosquito sucked in a sharp breath of air, only to be choked to tears by the thick smoke around him. Flames raged all around. Judging by the map, his current position was at the southernmost edge of Qingshi County, right behind the Bone Chewer Tribe's lines! In fact, Brother Qiangren Suonan's VM was on a rooftop not far away... Wiping the grit and blood from his face, Mosquito knew precisely how much aggro he had drawn. Not daring to linger a second longer, he hastily dragged a Pu-9 submachine gun from beneath the seat, tossed it into the building ahead, then gripped the exposed rebar in the wall and wriggled out of the shattered cockpit. Almost the instant he pulled himself free, rounds pinged across the wall from the street. Terror kept him from looking back as he bolted down the collapsed stairwell. Covered in dust and grime, Mosquito slipped out of the building and ducked into an alleyway. But just as he was about to sprint away, he hit a dead end after only a few paces. His face instantly drained of color. He turned to double back, only to find marauders already swarming the alley's entrance. There must have been an entire century fighting the fire here. Having spotted a downed pilot, nearly every marauder in the vicinity converged on the alley. They didn't seem inclined to dispatch him cleanly. Instead, they lobbed smoke into the alley and pushed forward behind cover. Mosquito soon emptied a magazine. Patting himself down, he found no spare and fell into sheer despair. "Holy shit! Put out the damn fire, you idiots! With so many of you standing around, what's the point of chasing one pilot?!" Yet the marauders couldn't understand a word he said. And Mosquito guessed that even if they could, they wouldn't listen to him anyway. Gazing through the smoke at those twisted, grinning faces, Mosquito was reminded of certain illicit manga he had read, sending an involuntary shiver down his spine. "Forget it, forget it. Guess I won't turtle up after all... see you guys on the forums." Pulling a dagger from his pocket, Mosquito braced for a last stand. Just then, a dense rumble of explosions sounded from the distance. The earth-shattering roar was crisp and clear even from miles away. The marauders blocking the alley entrance were visibly startled by the detonations, their advance stuttering. Mosquito blinked, glanced down at the time on his VM, and an expression of ecstatic glee washed over his face. No mistake! That was the sound of rockets! The ground offensive had begun! Without a shred of hesitation, Mosquito pressed his headset and bellowed with every ounce of strength in his lungs: "Goblin Corps Artillery!" "Open fire on my coordinates!"