To the Front!

"...I believe this is our last chance." "If we cannot make it stay in the River Valley Province, then once the airship returns to port, finishes resupplying, and rendezvous with their local ground forces, the crisis we face will be several times worse than what it is now." Vault 79, Administrator's office. Besides Chu Guang, more than a dozen people stood in the room. A few days earlier, when Chu Guang departed Qingquan City for Ruigu City, he had issued an order moving the command headquarters to the front line. Aside from staff officers like Vannus, officers of the First Corps, including Wrench, had also transferred here. At this moment, Chu Guang held a handwritten battle plan in his hands. Having finished reading the preface, he turned his gaze to the table of contents. The entire plan ran twenty-four pages, penned by Commander Spring, the commander of the Storm Corps. Objectively speaking, it was remarkably well-written, thoroughly detailed from both macro and micro perspectives. The plan divided the campaign into three phases: the air battle, the ground battle, and finally the boarding action. It detailed what objectives needed to be met in each phase, how much personnel and how many weapons were required, what to do if things went smoothly, how to respond if they went poorly, and so forth—each operational stage had comprehensive descriptions. This plan had certainly not been drafted in a single day. Chu Guang had noticed long ago that from the moment the Storm Corps arrived in Ruigu City—or rather, from the very instant that 400 mm main cannon fired—the player named Commander Spring had been continuously observing the airship. Its observation range, firing accuracy, interval between salvos, turret traverse speed, scouting efficiency at various distances, and so on. All these operational parameters were now laid out as supporting evidence in this battle plan, and the action plans for each phase were tailored specifically to exploit the weaknesses reflected in the data. Yet even though the plan was already so thorough, the player named Commander Spring still noted at the very end— "The disparity between our strength and the enemy's is immense. Our chances of victory are less than twenty percent, and it will be nearly impossible to use the same method twice. We only have one shot!" "Since victory or defeat hangs on this single move, there is no need to hold anything back." "I recommend total mobilization!" Turning to the final page, Chu Guang casually handed it to Vannus, who was standing beside him. "What do you think?" Vannus took the plan and flipped through it, spending slightly longer than Chu Guang. He read all the way to the end, pondered for a moment, and gave an objective assessment. "It's well-written, though perhaps a bit too modest. In my view... we have at least a thirty percent chance." As a former tribune of a clone corps, he had never been aboard the airship, and its detailed combat specifications were classified to outsiders. He could only analyze past public battle reports, and he judged that these figures, tested through actual combat, were likely more than seventy percent accurate. The New Alliance's sole advantage lay in intelligence. After the Bone Chewer tribe scattered in disorderly flight, the Legion's intelligence network in the southern River Valley Province was essentially a blank slate. Perhaps the Bugra Free State to the north had Legion informants, but that was too far away. The New Alliance's trade route to the north was only just getting started, and because of its rapid expansion, even if intelligence managed to reach the Legion through the Bugra Free State, it would already be outdated by months. Standing nearby, Wrench frowned and asked, "Only thirty percent?" Vannus nodded, choosing his words carefully. "Mm... In my memory, most campaigns the Heart of Iron took part in were asymmetric wars, or what we called suppression operations. Taking that into account... they might not have experience in electronic warfare. Then again, it could simply be a lack of experience." "If you'll pardon my bluntness, this is a massive gamble." Chu Guang pondered for a moment and said, "Gambling that they haven't seen this kind of tactic before, right?" Vannus nodded. "Yes. It's an insane plan, and I wouldn't advise adopting it. Still, I have to admire your corps commander. In just one month, he managed to analyze the Heart of Iron's parameters so thoroughly." Chu Guang smiled faintly. Ability was certainly part of it, but the key was the sheer power of information sharing based on "morphogenetic field" technology. Every player and forum lurker active online—no matter their profession or expertise—could propose their own analytical conclusions based on the intel gathered in-game, and the players in the game would then verify which conclusions were more reliable. Although many of the Alliance's weapons were on par with the World War II and Cold War eras, their information technology might very well surpass that of the Human Alliance era. After all, the "morphogenetic field," which could not be shielded or jammed by existing technology, had seemingly been developed by Shelter 404's first Administrator only after the Wasteland Era began. Then there was the verification of the intel. Those data points were bought with the lives of the Storm Corps players... Taking the battle plan back from Vannus, Chu Guang stared at it, thinking for about five minutes before suddenly speaking up: "I intend to adopt this plan." A flicker of surprise showed on Vannus's face. Looking at Chu Guang, who had clearly weighed it carefully, he asked seriously, "Are you... certain?" Chu Guang nodded. "Yes. I'm certain." Vannus couldn't help pressing further: "I don't mean to pour cold water on this, but executing this plan requires immense manpower!" "Even if there aren't ten thousand men aboard that airship, it is still a legion... If we are to carry out this operational plan within a week, by the most conservative estimate, we need to mobilize at least seven thousand people in three days." "Three days... is there enough time?" This was not his concern alone. The other staff officers also wore worried expressions. This was not cowardice; from a strategic perspective, scheduling a decisive battle within a single week was simply too rushed. War was not a game of chess where you could just push your pieces forward and determine the outcome. A major operation like this required at least a month of preparation to ensure coordination between units and keep each plan running smoothly. Back when they fought the decisive battle against the Bone Chewer tribe, they had spent a month and a half preparing before making their move. Chu Guang smiled faintly and replied without hesitation, "There's enough time. Three days is plenty. Mobilization isn't an issue for us!" He believed in his players. Not because of the authority the shelter granted him, but because this was not his game alone. The Alliance did not belong to any single person; it belonged to everyone who had shed blood and sweat for this land. When the Alliance faced an existential threat, whether players were farmers, slackers, or merchants, all of them would step forward without hesitation. Not just for profit. Even more so, to protect "our world." Why would mobilization take a week? A single minute was enough. "...In addition to mobilization, I intend to deploy mercenaries alongside our regular forces. Conservatively, our participating strength can reach ten thousand!" Closing the battle plan, Chu Guang set it on the desk beside him and looked at the officers gathered in the office. Seeing the fighting spirit blazing in each pair of eyes, he paused, then continued, "How long the trenches should be, where the machine guns should be placed—I'm not an expert on tactical details like that. But there is one sentence in this plan that I agree with completely." "If we don't make it stay here, we'll have even bigger trouble down the road." "It must stay here." "And it will!" Never mind a thirty percent chance. Even if there were only a one percent chance of victory, he would still take the shot! *** After the operational meeting ended, Chu Guang used a disposable temporary communication device to send the next phase of task arrangements to Xiao Qi back at the shelter. This file, under 10 MB, included today's official website update, details regarding the general mobilization, and the specific scheme for recruiting mercenaries. The latter part was primarily directed at NPCs; Xiao Qi would translate the Chinese into the Human Alliance language for him and convey the orders accurately to specific departments and individuals. In truth, even without his mobilization order, players were already winding down their ongoing tasks one after another, assembling toward Ruigu City for the new expansion pack. Meanwhile, it was daytime in the real world. Commander Spring opened a discussion thread in the forum's corps exchange sub-board, attaching the battle plan and tagging the commanders of each corps. Looking at the IDs of all the big shots in the thread, Commander Spring felt somewhat restrained when typing and polishing his words. Or rather, nervous. Command ability and organizational ability were two different concepts, after all. The former was strategy and tactics; the latter was more about dealing with people and relationships. He had received his closed beta access around the same time as [I'm the Darkest]. Compared to those T0 and T1 players who had gotten in very early and wore chests full of limited-edition medals, his seniority was somewhat lacking. To put it in real-world terms, it was a regimental commander ordering around division commanders. In any other MMORPG, just getting those top dogs to listen would have taken an enormous amount of coaxing. Fortunately, the server atmosphere in *Wasteland Online* had always been great. Thanks to the scheming developer being a decent guy, players weren't deliberately pitted against each other or encouraged to engage in toxic comparisons just for KPIs. Whether you ground endlessly or played casually, you could get a great experience in *Wasteland Online*. The T0, T1, and T2 players mostly treated each other as friends, unlike the typical guild ecosystems in certain MMORPGs—big bosses, princesses, and simps. When a good strategy guide was posted, whether by a newbie, a top player, or even a lurker, everyone would politely leave a like before saving it. Lao Bai: "I think your battle plan looks solid. You just need to be a bit more confident. (Grin)" Ye Shi: "Exactly! What's with 'less than twenty percent'? The advantage is totally ours! (Doge)" Fang Chang: "Professional matters should be left to professionals. We're counting on you, bro. (Smirk)" Gale: "+1" Commander Spring: "Ahem, you guys are too kind... To be honest, this is my first time commanding a guild battle on this scale." Brother Mole: "Hahaha, no sweat! Rommel was only a lieutenant in World War I! Once this battle is over, you'll be at least a division commander. (Doge)" Brother Edge: "Death Corps is in! Just leave the most dangerous spot to us!" Midnight Chicken Slayer: "Jungle Corps is in too! (Smug)" WC Really Has Mosquitoes: "Ace pilot requesting permission to sortie! (Doge)" Looking at the lines of replies filling the screen, Commander Spring felt a surge of emotion. Taking a deep breath, he tapped on the screen and replied: "Thank you! Thank you all for the support!" "The decisive battle will begin within a week. I'll assign the most suitable missions to each corps based on your gear and preferred combat environments... I hope you can trust me and follow my commands during the battle. I promise not to let your trust down!" Lao Bai: "Skip the formalities! We're all brothers in the Alliance. Just tell us where to go, and leave the rest to us! (Grin)" Brother Edge: "Chargeeee!!!" *** The next morning. The tranquility of Boulder City's outer ring was broken by crisp, vigorous hawking. "Extra! Extra!" "Stalemate on the front lines! Alliance declares general mobilization! Mercenaries wanted! Great pay, rare opportunity!" The paperboys dashed through the streets and alleys, shouting as they delivered papers to newsstands, taverns, and general stores, or slipped them into mailboxes outside residential doors. Outside a tavern that had yet to open for business, a large crowd gathered around a freshly printed newspaper, chattering excitedly. "The allied forces are recruiting mercenaries—fifty chips or a hundred silver coins a day!" "Hiss... that's half a month's wages for me!" A man with grease-stained clothes drew a sharp breath. Judging by his attire, he was likely a worker from a nearby machine shop. Hearing such generous compensation, many in the crowd felt a spark of interest. A mercenary standing nearby couldn't help asking: "Do those country bumpkins in the northern suburbs have that much money?" A fellow mercenary overheard and chimed in: "I heard the Boulder City Bank lent them a fortune, and all those chips are deposited right in the vault. No need to worry about not getting paid." Money spent from a loan never hurt as much; the New Alliance's pay was nearly double what Boulder City offered during the Tide. And a hundred silver coins a day was merely the baseline for an individual mercenary. For a well-trained mercenary company signing up, the rate would likely be even higher. Hearing what his peer said, the mercenary's interest was thoroughly piqued. He immediately turned to the tavern worker sitting by the entrance and asked: "How do we sign up?" The worker yawned and answered impatiently: "Isn't it written in the paper? Take the newspaper to the mercenary recruitment station south of Dawn City and report in... They'll issue you uniforms and guns." "Give me one!" Without hesitation, the mercenary pulled out his pouch, tossed a chip into the worker's palm, snatched a newspaper from the stand, and stuffed it into his coat. There were many like him. That very day, over three thousand mercenaries set out with newspapers in hand, heading north out of the city. Bullets might not have eyes, but they weren't necessarily more dangerous than mutants. For mercenaries who lived by the blade, risking their lives was just part of the job; naturally, they went wherever the pay was highest. Aside from the daredevils truly willing to fight, streets and alleys throughout Boulder City were abuzz with discussions about the front-line situation. Every sign pointed to one conclusion: the stalemate would soon end. A decisive battle was brewing a hundred and fifty kilometers away in Ruigu City... While Boulder City residents buzzed about the news in the papers, the office of the *Survivor Daily* was equally hectic. Editors hurried to organize materials and lay out pages, virtually burying their heads in stacks of paper. Except for one person— That person was Hal, the editor-in-chief of the newspaper. Unlike a few days ago, he was sitting by the window with a rolled cigarette dangling from his lips, looking utterly despondent. Cigarette butts littered the floor beside his stool, and the spark in his eyes was gone. Though newspaper sales were booming, he could not bring himself to feel happy. Just a few days earlier, his elder brother Kariman had come to Boulder City to visit him, bringing news of the Sunset Province. Supported by the Legion, the Falcon Kingdom had ignited an all-out war against the desert kings, and the raging flames of battle had already reached Oasis No. 9, home of the Lion Kingdom... And that news was already a month old. With such a disaster befalling his family, Hal had been frantic as an ant on a hot pan these past few days. He wanted to dispatch a reporter to the Sunset Province to check on things, but no one would take such a miserable assignment. Entering the desert was already a perilous venture, let alone when a war was raging. No matter how high the pay, you had to be alive to spend it. Just when he was at his wit's end, a savior suddenly appeared... "I'm heading to the front. The Alliance will probably push into the desert. Once I reach Oasis No. 9, I'll check on your family for you." Pushing open the office door, Fang Chang skipped the pleasantries. Looking at Hal by the window, he cut straight to the chase. He carried a half-person-tall backpack, an LD-47 assault rifle slung across his shoulder for protection, his gear and luggage fully packed. Hearing those words, Hal froze. It wasn't until the cigarette butt in his mouth fell onto his trousers that he leaped up from his stool. He rushed over to Fang Chang and grasped his hands with intense gratitude. "Thank you! I'm sorry, besides thank you, I don't know what to say!" Seeing how grateful Hal was, Fang Chang joked, "Don't mention it. But being a war correspondent isn't easy—make sure to pay me double." Hal said excitedly, "Triple! I'll give you my salary too!" Fang Chang gave a light cough. "That won't be necessary..." He had only been joking. After dealing in bionic parts for so long and opening up the Boulder City market for the Alliance, he was hardly strapped for cash. Just as Hal was about to express more heartfelt thanks, a voice full of surprise chimed in from the side: "Wait, what do you mean? You're going to the front?!" Fang Chang glanced toward the sound. Beneath a head of short, emerald-green hair, a pair of eyes widened in astonishment, staring intently at him. Noticing the expression on Dolly's face, Hal cleared his throat and tried to speak up for Fang Chang: "People long to know the truth. Brave souls must always step forward to go where most people fear to tread—" "Stop with the sanctimonious talk! You're just worried about your own family, but you don't dare go back yourself, so you're pawning off the trouble on someone else!" Dolly stared at him, hitting the nail on the head. "That's abusing your position for personal interest!" The newsroom fell dead silent. Even the sound of rustling paper ceased. Feeling the eyes around him, Hal squirmed uncomfortably and defended himself: "I... I am naturally part of the 'people' too... I admit what you said is true. I really don't dare go back, nor do I have the ability. But calling this abusing my position—I can't agree with that. The residents of Boulder City will be interested in what's happening in the Sunset Province. Lately, they've been paying more and more attention to outside events. I'm considering this from the newspaper's perspective." Dolly ignored his excuses. She turned to Fang Chang, gazing directly into his eyes. "Are you going to the front?" Fang Chang nodded. "Mm." A visible reluctance and worry surfaced in those pretty eyes. She lowered her chin, her voice carrying a trace of an imperceptible plea. "Do you have to go...?" Hearing this, Fang Chang smiled and reached out, ruffling her hair. "If I don't go, this place will become the front." If the Legion pushed their way here, they wouldn't bother distinguishing who belonged to Dawn City, who belonged to Boulder City, or who was part of the Alliance. They would plunder everything they could carry, burn whatever they couldn't, and enslave those stripped of their possessions... Just as they had done at Leaf Camp. Feeling the warmth passing through her hair, Dolly's cheeks warmed slightly, but she didn't pull away. Gently biting the inside of her lip, she didn't try to dissuade him any further. In a very faint whisper, she mumbled, "I get paid next month. We promised I'd treat you to dinner... You have to come back safe and sound." Hearing her clearly, Fang Chang's lips curved in an amused smile. He was certain he would be fine. As long as the Alliance endured, no matter how many times he met death, he would awaken three days later to see the dawn of the fourth day. Still... He wasn't so insensitive as to make tasteless jokes in an atmosphere like this. Looking into her eyes, he answered softly and solemnly: "I promise." *** Combat players and life-profession players alike, regardless of level or class, all received the server announcement for the general mobilization and answered its call. At that same moment, at the farm north of Dawn City. Makabaka leaped down from a sputtering, smoking tractor and shouted in broken Human Alliance language toward an old farmer shouldering a hoe nearby: "Old timer! Mind keeping an eye on the crops in my field for the next couple days? I'm leaving the tractor keys right here!" He didn't know the NPC's name. Yet after farming together for so long, they were well-acquainted with each other. In fact, quite a few farmers around here had learned tractor driving from his buddy Tiger. At present, Makabaka had grinded his farming level up to Level 6, just four levels shy of his dream estate. Money was trivial, but the crops in the ground could not be left to wither. The old farmer didn't know his name either, but he was no stranger to this odd fellow. Clearly an esteemed vault dweller, yet he toiled in the dirt doing rough work alongside them, and seemed to enjoy every minute of it. More than that, this guy treated the crops in the field as more precious than his own life. Once, a multiped had wandered here from Yumu District. Everyone else had turned and fled at the sight of the monster, but this guy had roared at the top of his lungs, charged forward with a hoe, and actually fought the creature until he chased the mutant off. It was hard to imagine what kind of matter could make him abandon his crops and stay away for days on end. Looking at the young man, the old man couldn't help calling out, "Where are you off to?" Dusting off his gear, Makabaka swung his pack onto his shoulder, looked back with a grin, and shouted, "To the front!" The old man with the hoe froze, asking reflexively, "Th-then when will you be back?" "Once we win!" Without waiting for the old man to answer, Makabaka was already humming a tune as he headed toward the farm entrance, meeting up with Go Up the Mountain to Fight Tigers, who was waiting there. Glancing at Makabaka's burlap pack and the magazines clipped to it, Tiger, hands stuffed in his pockets, teased with a chuckle, "Why bring so much stuff? We fly planes—we'll probably be back in no time, won't we?" Rumor had it that propeller planes lasted less than two seconds against that iron monstrosity. Saying they'd be back in no time was a slight exaggeration. Three days would still be needed. Makabaka grinned. "Other people are flying the planes. This time, we're driving the good stuff!" Intrigued, Tiger asked curiously, "What good stuff?" Makabaka raised his chin, his face beaming with excitement. "A tank!" Hearing that word, Tiger was stunned for a moment. When he came to his senses, he was utterly shocked. "Holy crap, have you ever driven one of those?!" And wait a minute. When did the Alliance get tanks?! Makabaka offered no explanation, merely chuckling. "Nope! But that doesn't matter! I heard from the manager at Factory 81 that driving one is pretty much the same as driving a tractor!" Tiger couldn't help sputtering, "That's completely different, damn it!" Makabaka patted his buddy's shoulder. "Relax, it's not as hard as you think... In a bit, I'll go sweet-talk some strength-build brute into being our loader. You'll be the driver, and all you have to do is slam that gas pedal to the floor!"