On the southwest side of Ruigu City, a motley rabble in mismatched clothes marched in ragged formation, guided toward the northeast urban district by ten soldiers clad in black cloaks.
These irregularly dressed skirmishers were almost all local survivors. Some had been scavengers, others hunters, and a few were even farmers or herders.
In the Legion, troops cobbled together from survivors of occupied territories or "non-core populations" within their domain were commonly called the "Auxiliary Army."
Unlike well-equipped Legion regulars, not only did they bear the sallow, malnourished complexions of the starving, with frames as thin as hemp stalks, but their equipment was glaringly primitive—worse off even than moderately capable marauders.
Each man had merely been issued a single Ripper rifle along with fifteen or thirty spare rounds before going into battle. Once their ammunition ran out, they had to scavenge from fallen comrades or fix bayonets and brawl in melee.
Prior to this, they had received zero formal training. At most, they had dealt with a few mutated cockroaches and rats.
In truth, there was no point in training them anyway.
In the eyes of the Legion soldiers, these people were cheap cannon fodder recruited purely to expend the enemy's ammunition.
No one expected them to come back alive; in fact, it was better if they died.
Of course, that was merely how the vast majority of the Legion viewed them.
The men stamped with the label of cannon fodder did not see themselves that way at all.
The Legion had promised that surviving three battles would make them "one of their own," with a shot at being promoted to decurion. Surviving six battles offered a chance at promotion to centurion.
Beyond that, there was a "shortcut."
The head of a certain Deathclaw!
Whoever managed to sever that beast's head would not only become a centurion, but would also receive a bounty of ten slaves!
Upon hearing of such a reward, many survivors who had enlisted in the Auxiliary Army eagerly volunteered for the hunting party.
Though the Deathclaw's terrifying reputation was renowned, those who had actually seen the beast were few and far between, and those who had seen one and survived were even rarer.
In the minds of most survivors, backing from artillery and an array of anti-armor weapons meant that facing a beast that could be brought down with enough effort sounded far easier than trading fire in the wilderness against the Enterprise's elite forces.
After all, the latter had beaten the regular troops training them senseless. Going up against those monsters meant you might get sent to meet the Great Horned Deer God without ever seeing where the enemy was shooting from...
Caressing the rifle in his hands with boundless adoration, Li Ba's face was painted with pure obsession.
He had never held a weapon so finely crafted.
Back in Ten Trees Village, the double-barreled shotgun owned by the old hunter living next door had seemed like an incredible piece of weaponry.
He had dreamed of owning one.
Shouldering his rifle, Battlefield Guy glanced at the man. He wanted to mock him with a snarky comment—*It's just a piece of trash gun handed out to fodder, is it really worth drooling over?*—but his spoken language was too clumsy. After agonizing for half a minute, he still couldn't string the words together and had to swallow them down.
Just as he looked away, however, the NPC named Li Ba took the initiative to strike up a conversation.
"Hey bro, you from Bet Street?"
"Yeah."
"You guys got Deathclaws over there?"
Li Ba's face was tight with apprehension and nerves, yet alongside those uneasy emotions, Battlefield Guy surprisingly spotted a glint of excitement.
Just as expected of someone who had never seen real combat—his head was still full of unrealistic fantasies.
Battlefield Guy gave a brief reply.
"Yeah."
Li Ba's eyes widened. "Awesome! Have you seen one?"
A grin curled the corner of Battlefield Guy's mouth.
"Heh, more than just seen one."
They ran into each other practically every day.
A big one was kept outside the shelter, a little one was raised inside, and an occasional Deathclaw wandered near the nuclear crater in Yumu District.
He had grown numb to the sight long ago.
Li Ba's eyes lit up, and he pressed further.
"Are Deathclaws tough?"
"They're alright. One swipe of their paw can knock a man's head clean off, and a claw can yank your intestines straight out of your belly."
Li Ba went a shade paler.
"For real...?"
Battlefield Guy chuckled.
"I'm kidding. Why don't you go up and test it yourself later?"
Li Ba fell silent.
Seeing how cowardly the man looked, Battlefield Guy stopped teasing him and offered a reassuring smile.
"Relax. We probably won't be running into that thing today."
Li Ba blinked, puzzled.
"Why?"
"Hunch."
Battlefield Guy naturally wasn't going to tell him that he had already leaked today's plan to his good brothers in the Storm Corps.
Xiangling Town was the entrance to Shelter 79.
Until there was real progress in clearing Shelter 79, they couldn't allow the Legion to eliminate the gatekeeping boss.
Looking up at the sunlight filtering through the treetops, Battlefield Guy muttered under his breath, "Should be just about time."
Almost the instant the words left his mouth, a thunderous crack erupted from the residential blocks ahead.
A streak of tracer fire flashed through the air, and heavy armor plates shattered into shrapnel. One of the black-cloaked soldiers in the formation was thrown backward like a broken kite, his torso blown into a gory pulp.
Surprise flared in Battlefield Guy's eyes.
*Damn.*
*Using an anti-materiel rifle on infantry!*
*That's brutal!*
He knew that sound intimately. It was without a doubt the Alliance's 20mm Light Lance, capable of firing armor-piercing, high-explosive, and incendiary rounds.
The weapon was fantastic against both infantry and mutants alike. A quad-mount made for an anti-aircraft gun, while a single piece could serve as a sniper rifle.
It was absurdly useful.
"Ambush!"
"Scatter! Take cover!"
"Move!"
Though caught completely off guard, the black-cloaked soldiers were, after all, well-trained Air Marines, reacting the instant the attack landed.
The black-cloaked officer roared, leading his three surviving subordinates as they dove behind nearby cover. The auxiliary troops cobbled together from survivors snapped out of their daze soon after, scrambling toward whatever shelter was closest.
Yet their opponents were hardly pushovers either.
Almost the moment the thunderous rifle shot echoed, machine guns positioned behind windows spat violent tongues of fire.
Seven-millimeter bullets cascaded like driving rain, instantly turning the street across from them into a slaughterhouse.
Soldiers who failed to take cover were cut down like ripe wheat, racking up over a dozen casualties in an instant. Though the survivors managed to scramble behind cover, the ferocious suppression pinned them flat, rendering them completely unable to lift their heads.
The second that first shot rang out, Li Ba's mind went entirely blank.
He didn't even know how he had ended up behind cover. All he registered was the shrieking storm of bullets overhead, accompanied by showers of sparks, shattered stone, and spraying concrete.
Clutching his rifle tightly, he slumped against a crumbling concrete wall, his pale lips trembling uncontrollably without uttering a single sound.
Barely three meters away on the street, a mangled corpse lay sprawled. The man was undeniably dead, yet his legs still twitched reflexively.
Releasing his grip on Li Ba's collar after dragging the man to safety, Battlefield Atmosphere Group glanced at the bodies strewn across the pavement.
Though these dead fodder were also victims of the Legion's invasion, the Alliance's soldiers wouldn't show mercy because of that.
This was war.
"Hey, you alright?"
"I... I..." Li Ba opened and closed his mouth, his ashen face suddenly flushing purple as he forgot to breathe.
"Take a deep breath and calm down. Don't choke yourself to death before a bullet even hits you... That'd be embarrassing as hell."
Slapping the man's shoulder firmly, Battlefield Guy looked at his terrified face, sighed, and offered a few reassuring words in broken Human Alliance language.
Then he snatched up the discarded Ripper rifle and racked the bolt to chamber a round.
Just then, the officer's furious roar echoed from a nearby alleyway.
"Advance—!"
"Push forward, all of you!"
"If I catch any bastard cowering behind cover like a spineless coward, I'll execute him myself!"
Ahead was the roar of machine guns; behind was the bellow of the execution squad.
"Aaargh—!"
Unable to bear the overwhelming pressure any longer, a survivor lost his mind and burst out from behind his cover. Screaming at the top of his lungs to vent his terror, he charged toward the high-rise ahead with his rifle clutched in his arms.
Before he had taken two steps, a cloud of blood mist burst across his chest. His shout choked off, and without even managing a scream, he collapsed stiffly onto the blood-soaked pavement.
The survivors preparing to dash from their hiding spots were terrified by the sight, their legs suddenly feeling like lead, rooted to the spot.
Leaning against the wall, the officer watched the corpse still spurting blood and flew into a blinding rage, cursing violently on the spot.
"Are you a fucking pig?!"
"I told you to flank them! Who told you to charge straight into their line of fire?!"
Dead men told no tales, and the mangled corpse naturally had no reply.
Still, with that living example, the other fodder grew wiser. Keeping their heads low and hugging the terrain, they began flanking and advancing along the sides.
Even so, having never undergone proper training, their combat discipline remained virtually nonexistent, even as their bodies slowly adapted to the battlefield.
Everyone crowded into the alleyways in a chaotic swarm, scuttling like headless flies.
Whenever the distant machine guns paused for a second or two, these rookies with less than twenty-four hours of training didn't even know which direction they were supposed to run.
Battlefield Guy, however, knew exactly what to do.
"Time to go."
Reaching down, he hauled Li Ba up from the dirt and dragged the weak-kneed coward into a side alley sheltered from the machine-gun fire.
Staying in place was guaranteed death.
The Legion would execute them as deserters without a second thought to set an example.
Besides, as a double agent, expecting to earn the enemy's trust simply by turtling until the end was completely out of the question.
Last night, Battlefield Guy had discussed the matter with the boys in their group chat.
According to Brother Spring's plan, the Storm Corps would use his intel to spring an ambush, intercepting and breaking the Legion hunting party sent toward Xiangling Town.
Once the Legion's mission for the day was foiled, they would give him the opportunity to secure a kill.
Just as Battlefield Guy slipped into the southern alley, three 100mm shells struck the residential block just ahead with pinpoint accuracy.
Billowing clouds of black smoke erupted instantly. Scorching shockwaves and pillars of debris surged over a dozen meters into the air, blasting three gaping craters into what had been intact concrete walls.
Showering gravel sent the surrounding auxiliary soldiers diving face-first into the dirt, pressing their heads against the ground, too terrified to move.
Amid the rolling thunder of artillery, the officer's muffled roar drifted over.
"Get up! Don't you dare stop! Everyone push forward!"
"Drag those ambushing bastards out of that building for me!"
Yet his shouting had little effect.
Between the distance muffling his voice and the shell shock freezing the men in terror, most remained paralyzed on the ground.
This time, nothing could convince Li Ba to advance another inch. Battlefield Guy stopped dragging the deadweight along, charging alone through the scorching smoke screen into the bombarded building.
A faint cough sounded from the ruined stairwell above.
The heavy shelling hadn't killed the player hiding inside the concrete structure, though the cough made it clear he had taken serious damage.
"Kakarot?" Battlefield Guy called out tentatively up the stairwell.
After a long pause, a reply drifted back.
"It's Old Ghost! Damn it... those Legion dogs went straight to artillery, no sense of honor at all."
Old Ghost was the nickname of Catching Ghosts at Graves, a fellow member of the Storm Corps. Battlefield Guy knew who it was the moment he heard the voice and teased with a laugh, "Artillery bombardment is standard operating procedure, isn't it?"
Pausing, he urged, "Cut the chatter and hurry up. Are you going to off yourself, or should I come up and give you a hand?"
A chuckling laugh came from the stairs.
"Just giving you the kill would be boring as hell, wouldn't it?"
The game rules strictly forbade malicious player killing. Settling in-game disputes outside the arbitration system resulted in equal penalties for both parties, and almost no one was willing to risk their closed beta access. Anyone foolish enough to mess around had been kicked off the server before finishing the Passing the Torch quest.
However, what the rules forbade was *malicious* PK. Quest requirements and special circumstances were exempted.
Having often heard Brother Spring brag about how terrifying Battlefield Guy's combat prowess was, Old Ghost wanted to take this chance to test his skills.
Battlefield Guy paused slightly, spotting the hair-thin tripwire at the foot of the stairs. Looking up, he chuckled.
*Look at you.*
*Still playing hard to get.*
"Fine by me. Want to dance?"
Hearty laughter echoed from the floor above.
"Haha, you bet!"
"Come on! Let's have a good scrap!"
...
One was a Level 15 Strength-type, the other a Level 22 Agility-type.
Whether in raw stat sheets or combat experience, Battlefield Atmosphere Group held an overwhelming advantage. There was no universe in which he could lose.
Not to mention, Old Ghost had already suffered internal injuries from the preceding artillery strike.
The duel concluded without suspense. Still, Battlefield Guy gave his brother some face, letting him choose his manner of death once the fight was over.
"Speak up. How do you want to kick the bucket?"
Lying in a pool of blood and gasping for breath, Catching Ghosts at Graves watched Battlefield Atmosphere Group casually toss and catch a combat knife, wheezing out a laugh.
"Cough, cough... The Alliance has no cowards! Make sure those foreign bastards see how brave I was!"
Battlefield Guy understood and nodded.
"Got it. I'll poke a few extra holes in you."
"Much appreciated! Oh, and remember to mess up my face!"
With his final requests delivered, Old Ghost rolled his eyes back and voluntarily logged off.
Looking down at his motionless brother lying on the floor, Battlefield Guy shifted the falling knife into a reverse grip, sighed softly, and stepped forward.
"Sorry about this, bro."
...
Even knowing it was just a game, even knowing no one was actually dying, even with all those caveats, carrying it out still felt distinctly chilling.
Still—
It was all for the Alliance.
Thinking of it that way made him feel much better.
Silently saying a prayer for Old Ghost's soul, Battlefield Guy dragged the mangled "quest item" back to report his mission.
Watching Battlefield Atmosphere Group emerge from the ruins soaked in blood, not only were the survivors being herded forward struck dumb, but even the four surviving Legion soldiers stared in disbelief.
"...Just this one."
Tossing the body and the weapon wreckage onto the ground, Battlefield Atmosphere Group looked at the stunned officer, keeping his words sparse.
The officer finally came back to his senses, his Adam's apple bobbing before he stiffly forced out two words.
"Very good..."
*Who the hell...*
*Is this guy?*
With the fighting over, they tallied the casualties.
Out of a unit of 121 men, 31 were dead, including one Air Marine.
Before the hunt had even begun, losses had already exceeded expectations. After reporting the situation to higher command, the remaining four Legion soldiers led the survivors back to Falling Leaves Camp.
Upon returning to camp, Battlefield Atmosphere Group had wondered if the commanding officer would steal his credit, but he quickly realized his concern was entirely unnecessary.
Before he could even catch his breath, a Legion soldier walked up and summoned him to Corwei's command tent.
The three-striped centurion was the supreme commander of Falling Leaves Camp. From what the soldiers said in passing, this man was a direct subordinate of Rachel, holding exceptional status.
Inside the tent.
Corwei stared at the blood-drenched man before him and spoke slowly.
"Name."
Having fully settled into character, Battlefield Atmosphere Group stood at attention and answered fluently, "Pangolin!"
The officer remained silent, his sharp eyes boring directly into him, scanning him up and down as if weighing calculations in his mind.
Battlefield Guy began to wonder uneasily.
*Does this big-nosed bastard have a thing for me?*
*Surely not...*
Just as he was debating whether to drop the act and draw his blade, the expression on Corwei's face shifted into one of appreciation, and he gave a slow nod.
"Not bad!"
His breathing remained steady right after an intense battle. He had charged alone through an artillery barrage and taken down an Awakened elite of the Enterprise armed only with a Ripper rifle. Such combat prowess was truly astonishing...
What surprised Corwei most was that this man showed not a shred of fear under his scrutiny.
This man was a genuine talent!
The sole pity was that he was a native rather than someone carrying noble Legion blood. Otherwise, he would not have hesitated to recommend this warrior to his superior, Rachel.
With a touch of regret in his eyes, Corwei lifted his chin slightly and continued, "Starting today, I appoint you as a decurion of the Auxiliary Army."
*Holy shit?*
Delight bloomed in Battlefield Atmosphere Group's chest.
*Just like that, I'm an officer?!*
Without a moment's hesitation, he thrust his chest out, held his head high, and shouted, "Yes, sir!"
Corwei gave an approving nod.
"Perform well. I expect great things from you!"
...
Battlefield Guy's undercover operation was proceeding far smoother than anticipated.
After sacrificing an Awakened player, not only had he secured the rank of decurion in the auxiliary forces, but he had even unexpectedly earned the favor of Falling Leaves Camp's "boss," Corwei.
Meanwhile, while the players of the White Bear Knights and the Death Corps were occupied clearing Shelter 79, the logistics transport team returning from Ruigu City with Luo Hua finally arrived at the northern outskirts of Qingquan City.
Looking at Luo Hua wrapped like a mummy on the stretcher, Chu Guang's brow twitched involuntarily. He immediately ordered, "Get him to the shelter, quickly!"
Taking over the casualty from the logistics team, the medical staff sprinted toward the shelter with the stretcher.
Chu Guang followed behind, heading into the shelter alongside them.
Although there was a clinic on the surface, both the expertise of the doctors and the medical facilities were far inferior to those inside the shelter.
In the medical bay on Floor B3.
Heya performed a comprehensive scan on Luo Hua as he lay on the scanning bed, quickly compiling the diagnostic results on her tablet.
"The left arm is completely necrotic. I'm afraid it will have to be amputated..." Finishing her sentence, she looked toward Yin Fang standing beside her. "Surgery—you're better at this than I am."
Yin Fang said nothing, instead turning his gaze toward Chu Guang, waiting for his decision.
Of everyone present, only Chu Guang was close with the patient.
After barely half a second of thought, Chu Guang nodded promptly.
"Cut it off. Replace it with a bionic prosthesis."
Yin Fang asked, "Which type?"
Chu Guang answered without hesitation, "The kind bought from the Enterprise, of course."
He hadn't sold off all the bionic prosthetics imported from Heding in Boulder City. Such luxury goods were valuable because of their scarcity; dumping too many at once would only crash their price.
Yin Fang looked at Chu Guang in surprise.
Who would have guessed this stingy man could be so generous?
Still, he said nothing, escorting Chu Guang and Heya out of the medical room before immediately beginning the operation.
Outside the door.
Crossing her arms, Heya looked at Chu Guang with curiosity. "A friend of yours?"
"Yes."
"He took a terrible beating..."
Glancing at the closed door, Heya spoke with lingering emotion. "I found at least twenty pieces of shrapnel in his body. The only reason he survived this long was thanks to those bionic organs inside him."
Chu Guang did not reply, simply pulling a silver card from his pocket.
The card was stained with blood, yet the fluid had not congealed on its surface. Staring at it for a moment, Chu Guang furrowed his brows slightly.
Noticing the object in his hand, Heya raised an eyebrow and spoke up unexpectedly.
"I think I've seen that before."
Chu Guang immediately looked at her. "Where?"
"I don't recall the exact place, but that thing... isn't it just a shelter access card? If I remember right, it's not just for opening doors; certain administrative clearances can be bound to it as well." Heya gave Chu Guang a puzzled look. "Don't you have those here?"
"...We're more frugal, and we don't need them."
Brushing her off casually, Chu Guang stared at the card in his palm, lost in thought.
*A key to Shelter 0?*
*They really did find it...*
Chapter 387