A busy signal buzzed through the communication channel, accompanied by crackles of static.
Pressing his index finger against the bridge of his nose, Chu Guang sat wearily in the Administrator's office of Vault 79 and hung up the video call from Dawn City.
Three days had passed since he obtained administrative control over Vault 79.
To oversee the setup of a respawn point and a forward operating base within Vault 79, Chu Guang had remained on the front lines to organize operations instead of riding Neko back home.
Just ten minutes ago, his players had finally erected a temporary communication relay station in the urban ruins of Ruigu City.
With that, Chu Guang had finally reconnected with the rear. He had learned from Luka about Kariman's arrival and received word that the Legion was currently invading the Sunset Province.
He understood all too well the principle that when the lips perish, the teeth freeze.
If the Legion conquered the Sunset Province, the southern corridor of the River Valley Province would become the immediate front line in their war against the Great Rift Valley.
When that time came, everything from Dawn City to Daybreak City—and indeed the entire southern River Valley Province—would be reduced to a battleground.
All the wealth created by the players and the citizens of the Alliance over the past year would vanish like smoke in the fires of war.
Had the Heart of Iron not parked itself right on their doorstep, thousands of Alliance players would already have taken up arms as mercenaries and rushed to the front lines to fight the Legion.
Just as Chu Guang was preparing to discuss countermeasures with Vannus, the communication link that had been restored barely ten minutes earlier abruptly went dead.
Footsteps sounded from out in the corridor.
Before the doorbell could ring, Chu Guang opened the sliding office door. Unsurprisingly, a cascade of silver-white hair came into view.
Standing in the doorway, Heya grumbled with a look of utter frustration.
"I was in the middle of copying data from here back to the Alliance servers, and just a second ago, the speed dropped to zero... What on earth happened?"
Chu Guang did not answer immediately. Instead, he glanced down at his VM, where a pale blue window flashed with an incoming report from the players.
[Tail: Giao! We're taking enemy artillery fire!]
[Tail: Sir! The balloon floated away!]
Piecing together the gist of what had just happened from those two lines, Chu Guang sighed, closed the window, and gave Heya a succinct explanation.
"Our signal source was probably pinpointed... The Legion's airship lobbed a few artillery shells at the temporary relay equipment we just set up."
Heya dropped her petulant pout, her face clouding with concern. "Huh? Then... is everyone all right?"
"Messages are still coming through, so they should be fine."
The urban ruins offered plenty of cover. Unless sub-nuclear munitions like fuel-air explosives were brought to bear, conventional artillery shelling had limited effect.
Moreover, for the Heart of Iron, this area was behind enemy lines and far removed from its supply routes; their ammunition was clearly not plentiful enough to waste indiscriminately without a second thought.
Anticipating that the enemy would likely dispatch ground forces to inspect the damage, Chu Guang issued new orders for the players on the mission to pull back from the bombarded zone.
Although long-range communications remained severed, short-range transmissions functioned normally.
A weak, local signal was notoriously difficult to pinpoint precisely. At best, the enemy would know people were in the area, but determining their exact coordinates would be nearly impossible.
"As long as everyone's okay..."
Scratching the back of her head, Heya felt too embarrassed to keep pestering him about network speeds, so she steered the conversation elsewhere.
"...Oh, right. While rummaging through the servers in this vault, I stumbled across something quite fascinating. I think you'll be interested."
"What is it?" Chu Guang raised an eyebrow with curiosity.
His Xiao Qi had only managed to stay connected for less than ten minutes before the line cut out, so he hadn't yet conducted a comprehensive scan of the vault's servers.
Vault 79 had already delivered plenty of surprises.
Hearing Heya describe her discovery as 'fascinating' instantly piqued his interest.
Catching the look on his face, the corners of Heya's mouth curled into a smug smile, and she continued in a lively tone.
"In the private database of a researcher designated A-7274, I found a complete set of exoskeleton schematics designed specifically for deathclaws. Although the project was never officially cataloged among the vault's research programs, the blueprints are remarkably complete—practically ready for field acceptance... Here, I'll just send them over to you."
With that, Heya tapped her VM screen twice with her index finger, swiftly transferring the files to Chu Guang's VM.
Chu Guang opened the file and took a look. It was a three-dimensional model complete with specifications for every component. It comprised hundreds of parts, with an overall complexity falling somewhere between the Miner I and the Type 5.
Handing the schematics over to Xiao Qi to fabricate a working prototype using the magnetic-confinement cutting lathe would not be difficult. As for industrial mass production, stripping down non-essential features to produce a budget version shouldn't pose much trouble either.
Although this gear had never left the drawing board, its designer had already given it a name perfectly suited to the identity of a deathclaw—
Hunter!
Noticing Chu Guang's rapt attention, Heya continued from the side.
"...Deathclaws grow at an astonishing rate. In just one year, a cub can reach a height of one and a half meters, and five months later, it reaches two to two and a half meters, entering full maturity."
"Because of that, the design focused heavily on adaptability, reinforcing structural flexibility so that any adult specimen with a spine length between two and four meters could wear it. On the flip side, armor coverage is somewhat lacking, protecting only the wearer's head and chest."
"My hypothesis is that the researchers here anticipated that once their consciousnesses were transplanted into deathclaws, operating tools originally made for human hands would be exceedingly difficult. So, they designed an exoskeleton specifically for deathclaws."
As for why the project had ultimately been abandoned, that was equally easy to grasp.
Even without Heya spelling it out, Chu Guang could already guess.
One look at the Mother Deathclaw outside made everything clear.
As long as the serum was administered, growth never ceased. No matter how perfectly designed the equipment was, it would fit them for a decade or perhaps only a few years at most.
Against an endless lifespan, that brief span of time was over in the blink of an eye.
Because various bodily tissues and bones grew at disparate rates, scaling the exoskeleton up proportionally was entirely unfeasible; each phase of growth would require starting from scratch with a brand-new design.
Consequently, the entire concept of mechanical augmentation had simply been scrapped.
"Not bad... This gear is perfect for our Wolf Cavalry," Chu Guang said with a satisfied nod, archiving the blueprints with the intention of transmitting them to Xiao Qi once communications were restored.
"Wolf Cavalry?"
"A research project the Army's working on. We're planning to form a highly mobile cavalry unit... Though talking about cavalry in the year 2341 sounds a bit dated, we intend to give it a try," Chu Guang replied offhandedly. "Don't worry about it. Leave the fighting to us; you don't need to fret over war matters."
Heya nodded, half-comprehending.
She didn't know much about warfare.
Yet she understood clearly that if the Alliance fell, she would never again be able to immerse herself in the research she loved.
"Well, as long as it helps. I'm heading back to the lab. Good luck to you all... do your best."
Reaching the door, she paused, then teased with a playful smile,
"By the way, what you just said sounded rather reassuring."
Without waiting for his response,
her brisk, light footsteps receded down the hallway.
***
Ruigu City.
Prone on the roof of a residential building, Commander Spring held a pair of binoculars to his eyes, watching the billowing smoke gradually dissipate in the distance.
Right beside him was an abandoned water tank, with a stairwell diagonally behind him. From his current position, he was completely shielded from the direct line of sight of the airship.
Lying next to him, Catching Ghosts at Graves also had binoculars trained in the same direction, watching alongside Brother Spring.
A few days ago, he had been taken out by Battlefield Guy and had only parachuted back into the region over the past couple of days.
Although Battlefield Guy had posted on the forums claiming he had 'destroyed the evidence and disposed of the body,' Catching Ghosts at Graves had stayed away from the front line just to be safe, opting to tag along with Commander Spring instead.
Experience showed that sticking close to this old camper guaranteed survival.
The only downside was the sheer boredom. Unless absolutely forced by circumstances, this guy practically never appeared on the front line.
And even when he did show up, a fight rarely broke out.
Take right now, for instance.
Never mind an exoskeleton—
the man hadn't even brought a rifle.
Growing numb from lying prone for so long, Catching Ghosts at Graves couldn't help asking,
"Are you sure the Legion's guys will come?"
Spring pondered for a moment and replied,
"More than an eighty percent chance."
"Then why hasn't there been any movement at all?"
Annoyed by the nagging, Spring rolled his eyes at him.
"You think walking over here takes no time? Quit rushing me and just wait."
The words had barely left his mouth
when movement stirred along the distant street.
A squad of fully armed soldiers cautiously advanced toward the blast site, providing mutual covering fire as they pushed past a collapsed perimeter wall.
Spearheading the march were, of course, the Retinue Army troops with their ragtag gear, while black-cloaked regular soldiers brought up the rear, prodding the cannon fodder forward into the ruins.
Watching those furtive silhouettes, Old Ghost's face showed genuine surprise, and he muttered in astonishment,
"...Damn, the Legion really came."
"With signal transmission at that wattage, any commander on their side would send scouts to check it out."
The enemy had likely mistaken that communication relay for their command post.
Musing silently, Spring kept his eyes glued to the soldiers on the street below, scrutinizing their gear and personnel layout.
Over days of reconnaissance, he had essentially mapped out the Legion's operational patterns.
For routine patrols, the Air Marines would dispatch a ten-man squad accompanied by a hundred-man century of the Retinue Army.
The former supervised and provided fire support, while the latter took on high-fatality duties like breaching, clearing buildings, scouting, and covering retreats.
For sweeping operations against guerrilla forces, however, they usually deployed at least three centuries of regular troops supported by five or more centuries of the Retinue Army.
According to intel from Battlefield Guy, the survivor population at Falling Leaves Camp was nearing twenty thousand, and the Retinue Army had swollen from an initial five hundred to two thousand men.
Had the organizational structure of Falling Leaves Camp's Retinue Army been fully established, the Legion would have gladly handed a Ripper to every able-bodied youth who could lift a weapon.
Because of the severe shortage of flunkies who actually knew how to fight, junior officers in the Retinue Army were being promoted at rocket speed.
Incidentally, Battlefield Guy was currently the leading contender for cohort commander.
After all, he was a centurion personally promoted by General Maclen, had hunted a deathclaw, and was the only one who had scored a victory in a head-on skirmish against Enterprise guerrillas.
As for the players who had infiltrated alongside him, most had risen to junior posts like decurion.
Confirming that Battlefield Guy was not among this group, Catching Ghosts at Graves said eagerly,
"Wanna give them a little surprise?"
"We're too close to the airship. Their gun barrels are probably already zeroed in on this sector," Commander Spring said, glancing up at the sky before adding after some thought, "Wait until dark."
Just moments ago, a rather brilliant idea had struck him.
He had heard that the boys in the Death Corps had recently captured quite a few 'Scavengers,' and they had just received a fresh batch of equipment custom-made by Goblin Technology.
This was the perfect opportunity to let them test their skills...
***
Late at night.
A squad of black-cloaked soldiers moved forward through the dark.
Roughly ten hours ago, they had destroyed a communication relay station inside the city. Yet just as darkness fell, another high-powered signal source had been detected in the ruins.
Without hesitation,
the moment the coordinates reached the artillery emplacements, the standby battery immediately fired three salvos of 100mm shells, giving the coordinates of the signal a thorough soaking with nine rounds.
Risking bombardment just to set up a radio meant the enemy urgently needed to communicate something vital to the rear.
Whether they were calling for reinforcements or reporting front-line developments, the Legion had no intention of giving them the chance to speak.
Rachel had forwarded headquarters' orders to Falling Leaves Camp.
Before long, a hundred-man century of wastelanders assembled, linked up with a ten-man squad sent by the Air Marines, and marched into the night-cloaked ruins in force.
"Why don't we just pound them with more shells... Is it really necessary to go look in person?"
Surveying the pitch-black buildings surrounding them, a black-cloaked soldier maintained his guard as he advanced, unable to resist asking his commanding officer in a hushed voice.
Heading into an urban sector after dark was never a good idea.
A gun barrel could be lurking behind any window.
The officer marching in the ranks repeated the order with an impassive face.
"Artillery already blasted the area once. The signal weakened, but it wasn't completely severed, suggesting a reinforced blast shelter. We must ascertain what was hit and whether anyone survived."
With that, the officer turned his gaze toward Pangolin.
"Take a few of your men and scout ahead."
"Sir, yes, sir!"
Embodying the consummate professionalism of seasoned cannon fodder, Battlefield Atmosphere Group gave a crisp acknowledgment and took point of his own accord.
Not only that, he brought along several confidants he had groomed, including the young man named Li Ba from the very beginning.
"You lot, with me!"
The conscripts called to the front wore grim, bitter expressions, but they reluctantly fell in behind this man known as 'Pangolin.'
Noticing their looks, Battlefield Atmosphere Group smiled inwardly without offering an explanation.
There was no need for explanations; in a little while, they would be thanking him.
As for the rest...
they could pray for their own luck.
It was war; people died.
***
Leading his men at the very front of the column, Battlefield Guy soon approached the structure that had just been battered by artillery fire.
It had likely once been a five-story shopping mall. Emerald vines had overgrown its steel-framed dome, though they had now collapsed along with the shattered girders.
Peering into the roofless mall, Li Ba gripped his rifle tightly, his calves trembling uncontrollably.
Swallowing hard, he cast a nervous glance at the centurion beside him—the ruthless operator named Pangolin.
"...Are we going inside?"
Battlefield Guy didn't bother explaining and merely said in a low voice,
"Stick close to me in a moment."
Li Ba nodded instantly.
Though he couldn't put his finger on why, his gut told him that as long as he stayed glued to this man, he would survive.
Passing through the security gates at the main entrance, Battlefield Atmosphere Group swept his rifle across the interior and clicked his tongue.
"Damn... these big-noses sure bomb accurately."
The preceding salvos of shells had almost all cleanly pierced the dome, landing dead center in the expansive atrium and blowing the surroundings to smithereens.
According to intel that the Storm Corps had paid for in blood, the Legion could triangulate the direction of radio signals, though their precision had been uncertain.
Now, Battlefield Guy was practically certain: for radio signals within a specific power range under twenty kilometers, these big-noses could pinpoint the location down to a single dot on a map.
Moving toward the center of the blast, Battlefield Guy conducted a careful search. Before long, beside a heap of scattered shopping carts, he discovered a backpack that had plummeted from the fifth floor.
The backpack was made of plain burlap. Inside was a radio set and a solid-state hydrogen battery, alongside a walkie-talkie taped together that was intermittently looping a prerecorded audio clip at low volume.
This was the origin of the signal.
It was also the radio decoy prepared by Brother Spring.
Leaning closer to inspect it, Li Ba couldn't help asking,
"What's that thing saying?"
Although the walkie-talkie kept chattering away, he couldn't understand a single syllable.
Battlefield Guy answered casually,
"No idea."
As a double agent of the Alliance, he naturally understood every word. The walkie-talkie was broadcasting classic crosstalk sketches: it had just finished "Selling Crutches" and was now playing "Just Teasing You."
The only uncertainty now was whether the Heart of Iron could intercept and decipher the radio's actual audio.
If they could, he could easily picture the scene:
a gathering of electronic warfare officers crowded around a desk, listening intently to the comedy sketch, racking their brains to analyze what sort of coded intelligence might be hidden within.
No, he couldn't laugh...
He was a double agent of the Alliance; he couldn't afford to break character now.
Suppressing his amusement with a dry cough to cover a snort, Battlefield Guy unclipped the walkie-talkie from his shoulder and recited his well-rehearsed lines to the officer outside.
"First floor secure. Found the enemy radio station... packed in a bag, likely fell from the upper floors. Should we continue searching upstairs?"
The officer standing guard outside promptly gave the expected reply.
"Continue the search!"
"Understood!"
The corner of his mouth curved upward. Battlefield Guy ended the transmission, turned to face his trusted subordinates, cleared his throat, and barked orders.
"Commence search from the second floor! Check every corner thoroughly; don't miss a single suspicious clue!"
"Move out!"
While Battlefield Guy led his men up toward the second floor, the street outside the mall remained steeped in silence.
Seeing that there was no commotion inside the building, the officer standing outside deduced that the enemy was either dead or had already withdrawn.
Realizing there probably wouldn't be any fighting tonight, he pulled a cigarette from his pocket and struck a match to light it.
Pungent smoke curled from his nostrils.
He was about to glance at his wristwatch to check the time.
Yet at that exact moment, under the pale moonlight spilling across the pavement, he caught a glimpse of amber eyes hidden within the darkness.
A low, guttural hiss drifted toward him.
Prowling along the wall, the beast glared directly in his direction, its amber pupils brimming with an insatiable hunger for slaughter and blood.
All color instantly drained from the officer's face. The glowing cigarette dropped from his frozen lips, scattering sparks and ash across the ground.
Especially when he realized that it wasn't just a single pair of eyes—
It was an entire pack—
"Deathclaws!"
The officer bellowed at the top of his lungs, grabbing his rifle and pulling the trigger without hesitation.
"Prepare for battle—!"
Almost the instant the shout left his mouth, the deathclaws clinging to the walls and rooftops let out thunderous roars and charged the soldiers stationed on the street.
The silence of the avenue was violently shattered by gunfire crackling like firecrackers. Muzzle flashes illuminated faces twisted with sheer terror.
What terrified them wasn't merely the deathclaws.
It was that people were riding on the deathclaws' backs!
Those riders had strapped themselves crudely onto the beasts, brandishing an eclectic assortment of weapons.
Some held rifles, some wielded shotguns, and others carried wide-bore launchers firing rifle grenades or similar explosives.
Before the deathclaws even collided with their lines, the soldiers defending the street were thrown into complete disarray by an opening volley of grenades and explosive rounds.
In merely a few breaths, the wall-scaling cavalry crashed into their midst, their scorching breath washing across the soldiers' faces.
From that very moment—
the Legion's troops truly learned the meaning of terror and cruelty.
At point-blank range, these bloodthirsty predators were practically invincible. A single sweep of their razor claws wrought a tempest of blood, gore, and severed limbs.
Whether they were wastelanders from the Retinue Army or black-cloaked regular soldiers, they were ruthlessly reaped in the throes of mortal terror, unable to mount any effective resistance, scattering in panic into adjacent buildings.
The commotion outside naturally reached the ears of those inside the mall.
Gazing out the window at the slaughter unfolding in the street, Li Ba's face was pale with dread. His rifle was trained on a mounted rider tearing through their ranks, yet he could not muster the courage to pull the trigger.
Just then, a hand reached from the side, took hold of his barrel, and gently pulled it back from the windowsill.
Li Ba turned around and was startled to see his centurion.
"Don't fire and draw those monsters here; we're no match for them..." Making a gesture for silence, Battlefield Guy peered out the window and whispered solemnly, "Stay hidden right here. I'll find a way to drag our commanding officer inside..."
The street had dissolved into absolute pandemonium.
Where gunfire had previously echoed, only agonized screams, wails, and the horrific sight of severed limbs and pooling blood remained.
The beasts were brutally efficient.
To savor fresh prey, they rarely bothered delivering killing blows; once an opponent was thoroughly incapacitated, they charged straight toward the next without wasting a second.
Because the two sides were locked in close-quarters melee, the airship hovering above could only watch helplessly, unable to provide fire support.
In barely two minutes, the Retinue Army century suffered catastrophic casualties, while the Legion's ten-man squad was virtually wiped out.
Seeing that no active targets remained on the street, the wall-scaling cavalry disengaged without lingering, vanishing as swiftly as they had struck.
Watching those ghostly silhouettes melt into the dark, the officer—who had been dragged into the mall by an attendant—remained paralyzed with shock.
Gasping for air, he looked down at the bloody laceration across his chest, then turned toward the centurion named Pangolin, forcing out a single word of gratitude.
"Thanks..."
Battlefield Guy remained silent,
mostly to avoid giving himself away.
Finally catching his breath, the officer inhaled deeply and made a cold, rational assessment.
"We need to pull out of here..."
Battlefield Guy glanced outside at the groaning soldiers and conscripts, asking in a low voice,
"What about the wounded?"
A flicker of reluctance crossed the officer's eyes, quickly swallowed by cold ruthlessness.
"They... are already dead."
He had never expected the Enterprise to command mutated beasts in battle. This diverged too sharply from their intelligence to accept.
Above all, he had no idea how many more deathclaws like those were lurking within the city ruins. Under such circumstances, headquarters would never authorize reinforcements.
Hearing the officer's answer, Battlefield Guy sighed inwardly.
What a shame...
***
After the surviving ground forces pulled back, the Heart of Iron unleashed saturation fire upon that sector of the city, the barrage thundering for over ten minutes.
Standing before the bridge's floor-to-ceiling viewport, General Maclen gazed at the urban ruins illuminated by artillery flashes, his impassive face shrouded in gloom.
A nagging illusion had begun to haunt him.
The longer they remained here, and the more Enterprise soldiers they killed, the stronger their opponent seemed to grow rather than weaken.
First came an aircraft flying faster than an artillery shell, and now cavalry charging on the backs of deathclaws. The enemy's tactics were growing increasingly absurd, while their own advantages were steadily slipping away...
Just how many reinforcements had the Enterprise poured into this place?
Or had his intelligence been flawed from the very beginning...?
Standing beside him, a staff officer reported in a solemn tone,
"That signal source... appears to have been an enemy decoy."
"Just now, we detected additional signal sources within the city ruins, originating from different sectors and across disparate frequency bands... We can intercept the audio, but our linguists cannot decipher what language they are speaking."
General Maclen was about to speak
when an officer hurried to the entrance of the bridge.
"Report! An incoming communication request from General Griffin!"
Maclen replied without expression,
"Route it to the conference room. Tell him to wait two minutes."
"Understood!" the officer responded, turning and jogging away from the bridge.
Delegating command duties to his executive officer, Maclen turned and exited the bridge, heading toward the conference room on the upper deck.
A single table sat in the center of the conference room, mounted with a silver-white apparatus in its middle. Seeing General Maclen nod, the officer standing by the door immediately stepped out.
The overhead lights clicked off,
plunging the conference room into darkness.
Moments later, pale blue motes of light rose from the projector at the center of the table, illuminating the room once more. Before long, the holographic image of a man in his late forties or fifties coalesced in the air.
He had a prominent nose, a resolute visage, and an aura commanding as a lion's, yet his eyes gleamed with the cunning of a fox.
Looking at the face in the hologram, a flicker of distaste surfaced in Maclen's eyes.
Nevertheless, because the man wore one more star on his epaulets, Maclen took the initiative to render a military salute. Once the salute was returned, he spoke with forced patience.
"What is it?"
"Cheer up, it's good news," the holographic figure said with a faint smile, maintaining an unruffled demeanor. "The Commander has adjusted our deployments in the Sunset Province. We have now officially intervened in the war between the Falcon Kingdom and the Desert Kings."
To a hawk, this was indeed cause for celebration.
Only by expanding the Legion's borders could one build glory and merit; only through war could more wealth, territory, and slaves be seized.
Yet at this very moment, Maclen showed little sign of joy.
It was glaringly obvious that the greatest glory had already been snatched away by the man before him. By the time Maclen returned, there wouldn't even be scraps left for him.
Seeming to read the airship captain's expression, Griffin continued in a measured tone.
"I originally intended to wait for your return before launching the next phase of the plan, but we were unexpectedly ambushed by Enterprise reinforcements... Before those desert dwellers could receive further support from the East Coast, we had to strike first. Naturally, I trust you've heard about this through other channels."
Clearing his throat, the man in the hologram continued,
"Now, I order you to execute a new directive: depart immediately for Desert No. 9 and support the ground forces of the Falcon Kingdom! I hope you haven't squandered all your ammunition; before you can dock for resupply, at least two tough battles await you."
"Enterprise reinforcements?!"
Completely tuning out the latter half of Griffin's words, Maclen's face registered sheer astonishment the moment he heard the first phrase—
or rather, utter disbelief!
Unable to maintain his facade of composure, he slammed both hands onto the table, his voice rising sharply.
"That's impossible!"
"The Enterprise's reinforcements have been pinned down by us in the southern corridor of the River Valley Province! Our airship has maintained a total blockade over this entire plain! I can guarantee that since the beginning of this month, not a single unit—not even a merchant caravan—has entered the desert from this front!"
"Furthermore, if you've encountered the Enterprise's reinforcements, then who the hell have we been fighting all this time?!"
A soft chuckle drifted through the comm channel,
carrying an irritating edge of mockery.
"Who knows?"
"Perhaps they're just natives."
Chapter 398