Burn!

July was the rainy season. Although the River Valley Province lay far inland and the monsoon-borne rain clouds were mostly exhausted by the time they reached this far, torrential downpours remained inevitable at this time of year. Just as it was now: one moment the sun blazed like fire, and the next, heavy, dark clouds blanketed the sky... "...Enemy movements spotted to the southeast! Their strength is above a cohort! They're primarily equipped with light infantry weapons, accompanied by multiple modified exoskeletons of differing models. No armored or transport vehicles observed!" Inside the tent. A scout knelt on one knee, delivering the gathered intelligence. Rachel, seated within the command tent, listened quietly to his subordinate's report. A cold sneer curled on his otherwise impassive lips. Finod stood to the side with his hands clasped behind his back, murmuring pensively, "To think the ones tangled up with us for the past half-month really were natives..." No matter how many reinforcements Enterprise sent, they couldn't possibly throw in an endless meat grinder like this. Their crude armament, above all, convinced him that these fighters were locals living off the land, most likely originating from some sizable survivor settlement nearby. And the castellan or mayor of that place just happened to be a reckless fool courting death. "What do you think they're after?" Finod still couldn't wrap his head around it. Was it for CR? They had indeed recovered Enterprise weaponry from the bodies of those soldiers, such as G9 assault rifles. Yet picking a fight with the Legion for mere money was sheer folly. They would crush these natives into dust, grinding them down like ants. Only the clever few who surrendered at the very beginning would receive clemency, earning the right to become slaves of the glorious Legion. As for those who put up a desperate resistance... Nothing awaited them but death. "Perhaps they were bought off by Enterprise, or perhaps they're just out of their minds... Either way, their arrival couldn't be better timed." Rachel rose from his chair. A cruel grin cracked across his mouth. Chilling killing intent radiated from him, causing the sweltering air inside the tent to plunge several degrees. General McClen had previously handed down orders to redeploy to Oasis No. 9, and Rachel had been brooding over the lack of a chance to avenge his fallen brothers. Now, the opportunity had delivered itself right to his doorstep. He would show these natives the meaning of digging their own graves! "Vito, Valit..." Softly murmuring those names, he picked up the pitch-black helmet from the table and slowly pulled it over his head. "...I will avenge you." *** West District mountains, Ruigu City. Here lay the artillery positions that the New Alliance had spent a full month preparing. More than twenty Tempest rocket artillery systems and thirty replicated 100mm field guns were distributed across the continuous ridgelines, spaced at least five hundred meters apart. Beside every rocket launcher and cannon, separate dugouts for personnel, ammunition, and gun emplacements had been excavated to ensure maximum preservation of troops and equipment under counter-battery fire. Of course, despite such meticulous preparations, Yang Shu understood full well in his heart. They only had one shot. "...The enemy's counter-battery fire will rain down on our heads within thirty seconds!" "We fire the first shot, and the brothers across the other peaks are waiting for our signal! We cannot afford to drop the ball no matter what! I need all of you to stay calm at all times. Whatever happens, obey my command!" "Do you all understand?!" Walking before the ranks, Yang Shu looked at the artillerymen under his command, delivering the final pre-battle rally. Their morale high, the lined-up artillerymen held their heads high and puffed out their chests, roaring back forcefully, "Understood!" Observing those slightly youthful yet resolute faces, Yang Shu nodded with satisfaction. He seemed to glimpse his own past in their expressions. Half a year ago, a bowl of piping hot green wheat porridge had brought an end to his wandering life. He had resolved to follow the footsteps of the Administrator, enlisting in the Alliance army to resist the invasion of the Bone Chewer tribe. Over the following half-year, he had marched north with the Northern Expedition army, fought in several campaigns to liberate Xizhou City, and ultimately succeeded in driving those flesh-eating marauders into the river. Though he had served for less than a year and had learned artillery gunnery from fellow veterans right on the battlefield, the trials of combat had honed his practical experience to match those old hands. Today, he was already the commander of the 11th Artillery Squadron of the First Corps. As the order of execution was issued, everyone sprang into action. The entire artillery position was like an ignited engine, every gear turning in flawless coordination. Yang Shu walked alone to the observation post, peering through binoculars toward the command post as he awaited the signal. Upon their cue, Battery 1's 100mm field guns would launch a smoke barrage near the steel fortress to blind the airship's visual observation. When their second cannon roared, the battery would immediately follow with a second barrage, detonating shells loaded with chaff near the Heart of Steel to generate an interference cloud. The large radar cross-section of the chaff's backscatter would deceive the radar, conjuring a blooming cloud on their scopes and shielding Alliance aviation as it punched through the enemy air-defense umbrella. Those two rounds were vital. They would directly decide whether the paratroopers could successfully reach the airspace above the enemy's head. Once those tasks were accomplished, he had to promptly lead his men into the adjacent bomb shelters to ride out the enemy's retaliatory area fire. Recalling the contents of the operational plan, Yang Shu's palms grew slick with sweat. If the counter-battery fire came from 100mm guns, their odds of survival were decent. However, if they fired 400mm barrel-launched rockets... With that sub-nuclear yield, their chances of making it out alive were less than twenty percent. Even knowing this, no fear stirred in his chest. Compared to the brave warriors charging on the front lines, their combat station was practically safe. Besides, it was just one life. Nothing to be afraid of. If those people hadn't reached out to help him, his life would have come to a full stop six months ago. The dark clouds in the sky grew increasingly dense. Yang Shu glanced up toward the heavens. Just then, a solitary raindrop landed squarely on his stubble, trickling down his neck into his collar. Feeling the chill at his nape, he frowned and muttered under his breath, "...It's going to rain." *** "It's raining... Looks like heaven doesn't always take our side." At the command post not far from the artillery positions. Standing behind a boulder with an assault rifle in hand, Kakarot glanced toward the airship and cracked a teasing grin. Rain would degrade radar precision. At the same time, however, it shortened the duration of smoke and chaff screens. More critically, the adverse impact on aircraft maneuverability presented a harsh trial for the Alliance, which relied primarily on propeller-driven planes. While heavy rain affected both sides, it hit the attacking party far harder. Yet they had no leeway to postpone the operation. There was no telling when this downpour would cease, whereas that airship across from them would undoubtedly withdraw within two days. Binoculars in hand, Commander Spring's expression remained completely unchanged as he spoke in a calm, meticulous tone. "Clear skies and low wind are obviously ideal." "Even so, a rainy day has its own way of fighting." He knew July was the wet season, so naturally he hadn't overlooked this eventuality. Lowering the binoculars, he tapped twice on the side of his helmet with his index finger, snapped shut the visor of his exoskeleton helmet, and issued a crisp command. "Execute Plan B!" Operation codename: Whalefall! Standing nearby, I'm the Darkest excitedly straightened his back and snapped a crisp, immersive military salute. "Sir!" *** "It really is turning into a deluge..." At the Dawn City airfield. Watching raindrops streak across the cockpit canopy, Luo Yu glanced down at the VM strapped to his thigh, muttering to himself as he flicked the power switch for the avionics. Rain. That meant switching to Plan B. The ground artillery would still lay down screening barrages, but the sequencing of the assault would adjust slightly. In clear weather, Alliance aircraft would maneuver around the interference cloud while ground forces attacked first, acting as bait to draw enemy fire. In rainy conditions, where the chaff cloud's efficacy deteriorated, the Mach 3 jet under his seat had to serve as the primary decoy. In essence, the tactical doctrine remained identical; only the sequence of execution was inverted. Just then, a pale blue prompt popped up on the VM display: [ECM Online] The moment he saw those words, Luo Yu breathed a sigh of relief. Raising his index finger, he tapped his headset twice. "Electronic jamming pod engaged! Functionality nominal!" There were two approaches to radar jamming: passive chaff to reflect clutter, and active illumination. Specifically, the latter captured incoming radar signals and transmitted ordered or disordered return pulses back toward the transmitter. The former acted like a smoke screen, concealing precise coordinates, but suffered from short duration and susceptibility to burn-through. The latter was akin to someone shining a massive spotlight to find you, only for you to flash a high-intensity flashlight straight into their eyes, blinding them or distorting their assessment of your size and numbers. The jamming pod mounted beneath his wing employed the latter strategy, capable of simulating the radar cross-section of six hundred Mosquito fighters. This was the latest equipment designed by the Alliance Scientific Expedition for the Alliance Air Force, tailored specifically against the Heart of Steel's radar array. Unfortunately, the preparation time for this decisive battle had been far too tight. Otherwise, they could have applied radar-absorbent coating to every aircraft and scrambled multiple electronic warfare platforms to suppress the enemy's fire control. Yet reality had no room for "what ifs." They had brought every trick in their playbook to bear. Even if these measures weren't guaranteed to work, buying just a single extra second would tip the scales of victory further in their favor... The voice of the command post crackled through the communications channel: "Command copies... Prepare to enter combat positions." "Understood!" Acknowledging the order, Luo Yu taxied the jet onto the runway and shoved the throttle to maximum. The roar of the engine built from behind him. Though he couldn't see it, he could imagine the fiery jet plume vaporizing the rainwater along the tarmac, hurtling him forward into rapid acceleration. The airframe lifted off the runway, rocketing into the overcast skies. Tearing his gaze from the receding ground, Luo Yu pressed his back firmly against the ejection seat, took a deep breath, and rolled his fingers over the control stick. A fiery fighting spirit ignited in his eyes. Come on then! Time to show off some real skill! At that very moment, beside the runway of Dawn City's Northern Airfield. Gazing at the streak of fire drilling through the rain curtain, Unprofessional Anti-Steamed-Bun smacked his lips with envy from inside the cockpit of a Dragonfly transport. "Damn, I wanna fly that too!" Chugging along in a slow propeller bird that was basically a flying bullseye couldn't compare to the thrill of a jet. Since his comms were unmuted, Mosquito's teasing laughter promptly sounded over the channel. "Haha, that thing's a prototype! They've only built one so far. Keep waiting, buddy." "You bet I will." Glancing back into the cargo bay and seeing that the paratroopers were fully boarded, he pulled the release valve nearby and sealed the hatch. The indicator light flickered. He unhooked the transceiver hanging beside him, fired up the engine, and announced over the frequency: "Lingyun-1 is airborne!" "Time for us to move out too." *** At the same time, in the West District of Ruigu City. Detecting hostile ground targets advancing, Rachel led three cohorts of the Air Marines along with two thousand wasteland auxiliary conscripts, moving out to sweep toward the objective area under the guidance of the airship's observation gondola. Originally, the Pangolin Century—an elite auxiliary unit—was supposed to deploy alongside them. However, owing to heavy casualties sustained in their previous mission, they were "fortunately" left behind in reserve. Fallen Leaf Camp. Korwei summoned Pangolin into his tent, looking at him. "We have received orders from above. We will depart Fallen Leaf Camp the day after tomorrow to return to the desert." Though he had learned of this development long ago, Battlefield Atmosphere Group feigned hearing it for the first time. After a theatrically stunned pause, a look of reluctance and hardship crossed his face. "You're leaving?" He truly felt frustrated. Missing out on going to the front with Rachel meant he had lost his chance to stir up chaos. Though such variables were within expectations, sweating through all that preparation without securing a single kill felt like a waste of effort. "We will return by late August at the latest." Looking at this fierce warrior, Korwei continued, "General McClen has kept an eye on your loyalty, and your valor is evident to us all. Effective today, you are appointed Chief Commander of the Fallen Leaf Camp Auxiliaries. Your official letter of appointment will arrive tomorrow." Tomorrow... Exactly one day too late. Battlefield Atmosphere Group sighed internally, knowing full well he'd never see that letter, yet maintained a deferential posture, bowing his head in hypocritical gratitude. "Thank you for the promotion, my lord." Observing this dutiful lackey, Korwei gave a satisfied nod. "Do well." "The Legion never skimps on rewarding the loyal. I hope to see a well-trained army when we return." "Don't let me down." Old Battlefield was just pondering some honeyed words of allegiance when a thunderous boom suddenly rolled in from the distance. Because the rumble echoed from the sky, Korwei initially mistook it for thunder. But he quickly snapped to his senses—it was the roar of artillery detonations. And— More than one. Korwei's complexion shifted. Springing up from his seat, he grabbed the radio off the table and bellowed: "Enemy attack!" "Prepare for battle!" *** Almost the instant the shells struck, the Heart of Steel sounded its Level 2 battle stations alarm. A flurry of frantic activity erupted from the observation gondolas to the gun bays. Though that salvo inflicted zero damage upon the Heart of Steel, the smoke generated by the blasts severely impaired the observation posts monitoring ground movements. Just over ten minutes earlier. They had detected signs of hostile units operating to the southeast. Yet just as they were preparing a thorough sweep, a dense barrage burst five hundred meters due east of the airship. The billowing smoke blinded the gondola's optics, though fortunately they had logged the general bearing of the incoming fire. "...Are these natives insane? They dare fire at us?" the loader muttered in disbelief as he shoved a shell into the breech. Those people had to know this level of bombardment was utterly useless against the Heart of Steel. Rather than alarmed, the crew was thoroughly baffled. Standing by the observation slit, the secondary gunner locked onto the smoke screen, frowning. "Smoke shells!" "...A laughable parlor trick." The officer standing behind the gun battery gave a cold chuckle. Glancing at the slip of paper handed over by a runner, he grabbed the communicator and bellowed: "Forward three sectors, fire mission! Bearing 112, depression 27 degrees... five-round salvo!" "Fire!" Twelve thunderous cracks reverberated through the hull. Twelve tracer streaks tore through the smoke, screeching toward the Alliance artillery positions. Flashes of detonation blossomed along the mountain ridges, followed immediately by another barrage raining down over the target zone! Sheets of flickering flame lined up across the peaks over twenty kilometers away. Plumes of thick smoke rose through the rain, turning the enemy's artillery positions into a sea of smoldering mist within seconds. Inside the observation gondola. The spotter crouching before the targeting optics yelled in excitement: "Confirmed hits!" Cheer flashed across the faces of the crew, but before they could exchange high-fives, a report from the radar compartment wiped the smiles clean from their faces. Six hundred fighters were flanking their rear from due north at Mach 2! Without an instant's hesitation, the spotter swiveled the optical sights, slewing toward the coordinates fed by the radar operator. Yet no matter how he cycled the magnification or strained his eyes, he couldn't spot a single silhouette of those six hundred fighters through the veil of rain. "Do you see them?!" "Dammit... Nothing!" Under favorable weather, visual range could stretch from nine to twenty kilometers. In heavy rain, however, that range was halved or worse. Even so, no matter how fast those six hundred fighters flew, and no matter how severe the weather degraded visibility, how could they not see a single afterburner plume? Standing before the targeting system, the spotter began to question his sanity. Was the radar broken? Or had his eyes failed him...? *** Inside the bridge. Upon hearing the report, General McClen's face filled with sheer disbelief. "Six hundred fighters... That's impossible!" Not just him—nearly every officer on the bridge wore the exact same expression of shock. The staff officer pondered for a moment before saying grimly: "Could it be a deception tactic?" Six hundred planes... All traveling at Mach 2. No matter how one looked at it, that number was absurd! Staring at the flickering contacts on the radar screen, General McClen's expression shifted between doubt and fury, his thoughts racing at top speed. He had considered that this might be an illusion conjured by the natives. Yet what was the point of doing so? Even if they drew the Heart of Steel's primary arc of fire, they couldn't pierce the absolute barrier of the deflector shield. Over the past half-month, those natives had tried every trick under the sun. Autocannons, heavy artillery, rocket barrages... Every offensive asset had proven utterly futile before the Heart of Steel. The officer before the radar terminal shouted: "They've swung around to our southwest! Signal intensity is increasing... They are closing in on us!" General McClen made an immediate decision: "Decoy or not, ready the anti-aircraft batteries! Swat those flies out of the sky!" "Yes, sir!" The barrels had already tracked the projected flight paths of the six hundred aircraft. At the order to fire, streaks of orange flame erupted from the muzzles, hurtling toward the radar contacts. Yet to everyone's surprise, the six hundred aircraft maintained formation without scattering or attempting evasive maneuvers, colliding head-on with the wall of flak. Gazing through the panoramic bridge windows at the wall of smoke left by the dense detonations, General McClen narrowed his eyes slightly. A hit? The radar contacts had indeed vanished. Yet this success had come far too easily. Right then, fluctuating blips flared across the radar again. The ground artillery batteries hadn't been wiped out entirely. They were still firing near the airship, though this time they weren't launching smoke. It was chaff. A flicker of surprise appeared in McClen's eyes. Knowing to use chaff against radar—it seemed these natives had a few tricks after all. Still, they vastly underestimated the Heart of Steel's radar system. Interference of this scale could be burned through in minutes. Furthermore... The natives' coordination was lacking. Those six hundred aircraft were already destroyed; deploying chaff now was too late, serving only to expose their surviving gun positions. Just as McClen was thinking this, twenty-two faint contacts suddenly appeared due south of the airship. They were remarkably close—less than ten kilometers away—appearing almost out of nowhere above the cloud deck. The instant he saw that string of blips, General McClen froze, realization hitting him like a thunderbolt. "Starboard batteries, fire mission!" "Those six hundred planes were bait! Target the contacts to the south!" *** At the very moment the Heart of Steel swung its guns, above the thick cloud layer. Unprofessional Anti-Steamed-Bun gripped the flight stick, his eyes glued to the VM strapped to his thigh as he counted down in his head. Traversing the guns 110 degrees takes about seventeen seconds... Ground artillery had already begun firing chaff shells to provide cover, but he knew full well that such interference would soon be burned through by the enemy radar. In fact, they wouldn't even need to burn through it. That dense flak was enough to shred them alongside the chaff cloud. In the distance, tracer fire tore through the cloud deck, bursting into blooms of black smoke across the sky. Lethal shrapnel sheared across propellers and wings. The continuous clang of metal against metal echoed as the airframe began to shudder violently. Judging that the window had arrived, Unprofessional Anti-Steamed-Bun calmly grabbed the communicator and switched to the cabin intercom: "This flight has reached its final destination. We will be crashing in ten seconds..." "The last kilometer is up to you guys!" As the words fell, the rear ramp slowly lowered, and a violent slipstream rushed into the cargo bay. The wind tore at the audio over the comms channel, yet through the fractured replies, he could still hear their unyielding fervor: "Copy!" "Leave it to us!" Paratroopers of the Burning Corps stepped out of the cabin one after another. Watching tracers piercing the clouds and explosive glare illuminating the cockpit glass, a grin curled on Unprofessional Anti-Steamed-Bun's lips. Mission accomplished. Though he probably wasn't making it back. With that thought, he switched channels and yelled toward command: "Flight Group B here... Mission accomplished, but enemy fire has locked us down. RTB impossible." "Before we go down, let's give the paratroopers one last send-off!" Silence met his call. Unprofessional Anti-Steamed-Bun understood. The enemy barrage likely packed electromagnetic pulse shells, jamming their communications. Well... It didn't matter anymore. Tossing the handset aside, he punched the toggle beside the flight stick. The tail of the transport began spewing thick black smoke. Gripping the control yoke with both hands, he roared into the battered cockpit: "Flight Group B!" "Deploy smoke and dive—!" Even without hearing his shout, the twenty-one Dragonfly transports flying alongside understood his intent the moment his smoke billowed. They popped their smoke trails and entered a dive in unison. Orange tracer fire crisscrossed the sky, turning the heavens into a blazing furnace. Stripped of cloud cover, the transports were swallowed by flames one by one. Yet their sacrifice was not in vain. Thick black smoke plunged from the sky alongside their suicidal dive, forming a tumbling wall of smoke like an overturned waterfall across the horizon. The spotter by the targeting optics stared wide-eyed, transfixed by the sky illuminated with shellfire. He had been certain those flying target dummies couldn't escape. What stunned him was that they hadn't even tried to run; instead, they had charged straight toward them. Then, he saw parachutes blooming through the thick smoke. Like dandelions drifting through fire. Their lives were burning away before his very eyes. Yet even so, the hurricane of flak and bullets could not alter the direction of their descent. Watching those parachutes drift downward, the gunner behind a 100mm anti-aircraft gun stared in disbelief, muttering as if in a daze: "...Are these people insane?!" Parachutes... Parachutes, of all things! These natives actually intended to board their steel fortress with such laughable contraptions. Even if a handful miraculously slipped through the flak screen and reached the hull, what could they possibly do? Though five cohorts had been deployed below, three cohorts remained on standby aboard the airship. A few dozen or a hundred ants... They would be torn to shreds in seconds. Inside the bridge. Watching the paratroopers forcing a landing, General McClen's face was equally frozen in shock. He had no idea where these people drew the confidence to assault his warship with such meager numbers, yet he couldn't afford to take them lightly. The natives had paid a staggering price to deliver these men to his doorstep; they certainly hadn't done it just to watch fireworks. Snapping to his senses, General McClen roared his command: "Vector the engines! Aim them upward!" The adjutant recovered instantly, saluting: "Sir!" At the order, the engine pods along both flanks rotated, tilting their propellers straight toward the zenith. Thrust built, and the propellers spun furiously. A massive column of air blasted upward, pushing the airship gently downward while violently scattering the parachutes descending through the air. Seeing his Burning Corps comrades thrown into disarray, Lingyun, which had previously disengaged, suddenly ripped back into the fray. By now, it had jettisoned its jamming pod. Emitting no electronic footprint, it closed on the objective silently and lethally, like a dagger unsheathed in the dark. "...Raindrops fall at thirty to sixty kilometers per hour." White-knuckling the flight stick, Luo Yu locked his eyes onto the row of starboard engines, muttering under his breath: "The deflector shield's trigger threshold should be around sixty kilometers per hour." "As long as I decelerate right at the edge of the shield..." "I can slip inside!" Though this was his first time attempting such a reckless stunt... With forward-swept wings... It should be possible! Counting down his approach to the shield in his mind, Luo Yu gritted his teeth, firewalled the throttle, and hauled back on the stick! The nose pitched violently skyward. For a heartbeat, the tail swung ahead of the nose. And in that exact instant, enduring G-forces that nearly blacked him out, Luo Yu shoved the afterburner lever beside his right leg. The jet plume flickering in the engine had been a steady flame, but now it erupted with blinding, incandescent brilliance. The aircraft's airspeed plunged. The violently vibrating forward-swept wings were sheared to ribbons by the slipstream. Before he could even let out a gasp, Luo Yu's vision plunged into darkness as he disconnected from the game. The unbalanced fuselage tumbled like a falling leaf, hurtling forward. Yet instead of being deflected by the energy barrier, it and the sheared wing fragments were sucked directly into the starboard propeller blades. A catastrophic explosion snapped the airship's starboard wing stub, sending the unbalanced behemoth listing violently. Ye Shi, who had barely managed to steady his parachute, stared wide-eyed at the detonation. "Holy crap?!" A Cobra maneuver?! He wasn't the only one stunned. The crew and officers aboard the Heart of Steel were equally dumbfounded. They hadn't even caught how the aircraft had approached. All they saw was the jet slowing at the very last second to bypass the shield, turning itself into a guided projectile that slammed into their starboard propulsion. With starboard thrust lost, the Heart of Steel was forced to shut down its port engines to prevent capsizing. The upward turbulence vanished, easing the pressure on the descending paratroopers instantly. Yet the threat of death hadn't passed. Even within the dead zones of the 100mm flak cannons and with the propellers killed, over a dozen 10mm machine guns swiveled toward them from every angle. Exoskeletons offered ballistic protection, but they did not grant invulnerability. Having crossed the threshold of the deflector shield, they were greeted by a torrential wall of lead. By this point, more than half of the five hundred paratroopers had fallen. Many were riddled into sieves in midair, tumbling down toward the earth or impaled on the hedgehog-like gun barrels bristling along the hull. Staring at the muzzle flashes and the final thirty meters of distance, Lao Bai drew the combat knife from the chest plate of his Heavy Cavalry exoskeleton and bellowed a charge into his near-dead comms: "Even if our flesh burns to ash before we touch down—" "We will throw our burning embers into their eyes!" "Cut the risers!" As the shout tore from his throat, he slashed his blade, severing the suspension lines wrapped around his exoskeleton, and plunged through the sweeping storm of bullets. Thirty meters vanished in the blink of an eye. His armored boots slammed onto the top deck of the airship, caving two distinct dents into the supposedly impenetrable steel armor. Clearly... It was not as invincible as it appeared. "Objective: the 400mm main gun!" Unslinging the rifle from his back, he roared into the communications channel: "Everyone who can still move—" "Forward!"