Never Fought Such an Opulent Battle!

A burst of flames rose in the darkness. When billowing smoke poured from the military base, the Restoration Army soldiers crawling in the trenches widened their eyes in astonishment. Ade included. His subordinate Kraft included. And all those centurions struggling in despair included. In the distance, the reconnaissance vehicle began to withdraw, swinging its front around and speeding back toward the military base. Meanwhile, the four trucks driving toward them halted where they were. The disembarked infantry were caught in a terrible bind, unable to advance or retreat. They had no choice but to dig crude skirmish pits on the spot, lying prone inside them to exchange fire with the Restoration Army soldiers holding the trenches. As it turned out, these high-nosed devils were not invincible. After losing their rear fire support, they quickly found themselves in a bitter struggle against several times their number of Restoration Army soldiers, suffering continuous casualties. Gazing at the pillar of smoke rising in the north, Ade's face registered stunned surprise, which quickly turned into wild ecstasy. He tore off his scarf, wrapped it around his wounded arm, and shouted excitedly to his men behind him. "It's reinforcements!" "Our reinforcements are right ahead!" "I told you—they wouldn't break their word!" Due north. Dense smoke billowed across the Legion's military base. In particular, the artillery positions, having received special attention, had been hammered into complete chaos by firepower raining from the sky, left in utter shambles! Hiding inside the bomb shelter, Piman shouted frantically into the communication channel, but nothing came back except sizzling static. It wasn't just the airborne command post a hundred kilometers away that was unreachable. He couldn't even contact the century stationed outside the base. Communications with all other combat units were intermittent at best, and every single report without exception stated they had taken heavy damage and were requesting reinforcements. Turning pale, Piman hung up the receiver and slumped limply into his chair. Antoinette stared at him with an ashen face, beads of nervous sweat forming on his brow. "What on earth was that?" "Metallic hydrogen... and not just metallic hydrogen, an EMP as well," Piman said, his trembling lips parting as a trace of terror crept across his face. "Our communications have been severed." At those words, Antoinette's eyes went wide. "An EMP?! Metallic hydrogen?! How could guerrillas possibly have things like that?!" Piman swallowed hard and said with great difficulty, "Those aren't guerrillas... Nine times out of ten, they're Enterprise aircraft." The moment he heard the word "Enterprise," Antoinette caught his breath involuntarily, dread welling up in his eyes as well. At an operational briefing half a month ago, he had heard General Griffin speak of it. The Legion's eastward expansion had already drawn the attention of the East Coast, and their occupation of the Pioneer land fortress was clearly something they couldn't conceal from those people. If they couldn't conclude this war in short order, the Enterprise would very likely step in. And when that happened... This war would escalate into a direct clash between the Legion and the Enterprise, tearing the ancient pact to shreds. For an entire century... Nothing like that had ever occurred. Meanwhile, directly above Piman and Antoinette, a drone with a bulbous nose cone circled high in the sky. Its name was the Seagull, hailing from the distant East Coast. With a unit cost of 1.5 million Cr, it carried eight guided missiles and a 20mm autocannon with six hundred rounds of ammunition. The ground base's communications equipment had been completely paralyzed by an EMP missile, dealing a crippling blow to the Legion's command hierarchy. Although they had rehearsed scenarios where communications went down, they clearly hadn't expected to suffer an EMP strike. The sudden assault threw the entire camp into utter disarray. Tank crews rushed toward the garages, intending to drive out the tanks and anti-aircraft vehicles parked inside. Yet before they could even get close, another missile fell from the sky. The airburst white phosphorus munition blossomed toward the ground like fireworks. Pillars of shimmering smoke showered down from above, rapidly turning an entire swath of barracks near the garages into a living inferno. A soldier reflexively raised his arm to shield his eyes from the blinding white glare, but a flying ember grazed his sleeve. Like a match tossed into a barrel of oil, the tiny spark flared into a roaring blaze in an instant. Within just a few breaths, it swelled exponentially, engulfing him in fire. He threw himself to the ground, trying to strip off his clothes and rolling in agony, but no matter how fiercely he struggled, he couldn't shake off the brilliant flames... In that moment, all experience and training became utterly useless; there was nothing left to do but wait for death in agonizing torment. Screams rose one after another as unquenchable fire consumed dozens of tank crewmen. Charred corpses lay sprawled in grotesque heaps beside the garages, and soon even the screams died away. Looking down at the ground through the drone's optics, Indebted Big Eye couldn't help smacking his lips. "Holy crap... That's brutal." That single missile just now had wiped out at least fifty of them. Unless one possessed a specialized ability, even an Awakened would find it difficult to survive such a hell. Unable to bear watching them suffer, Indebted Big Eye sighed inwardly and followed up with another missile. White flames blossomed, and this time the northeastern corner of the base turned into a sea of fire. A machine-gun position covered by camouflage netting went up in flames. Several machine gunners scrambled out of the blaze, only to be shredded moments later by cannon fire raining from above. Under thermal imaging, bobbing heads shone as bright as lightbulbs, completely defenseless against the plunging fire from above. At the same time, the Death Corps, pedaling forward on their tricycles, finally reached their new firing positions. The support squad set up mortars and, guided by the Seagull drone, laid down suppressive fire around the garages, preventing Legion crews from boarding their tanks. On the other flank, Squad A, acting as the vanguard, pedaled their tricycles furiously, advancing toward the northeastern corner of the military base under the Seagull's cover. They didn't need batteries or engines. Strength-type beasts wearing Pioneer exoskeletons were natural humanoid motors. The hulking men pedaling those tricycles drove them so hard that smoke practically rose from the tires. "Brothers, follow me! Charge!" Looking at the burning white light ahead, Edge Paddler roared with excitement, then slapped Construction Site Youth and Brick hard on the shoulder. "Faster! Pedal faster!" Construction Site Youth and Brick couldn't help grumbling, "My damn shoes are about to fly off! Damn it, couldn't we have gotten motorbikes?" Even motorized tuk-tuks would've done! Hearing his buddy's complaint, Edge Paddler, high on excitement, laughed heartily. "They take up too much room! Better to bring extra ammo than haul that crap. The Administrator actually asked me, and I turned him down flat!" Construction Site Youth and Brick: "#@%$!" Holding his breath and digging deep, Construction Site Youth and Brick—boasting the highest stats—surged out ahead of everyone in a cloud of dust. Squad A, led by Edge Paddler, acted like a razor-sharp spearhead, being the first to breach the Legion's outermost defensive perimeter at the northeastern corner. "Roar—!" A muffled bellow echoed out. Beside a sandbag barricade, a dark gray mutant emerged from cover, brandishing a club as tall as a man. His eyes were blood-red, and a thick steel plate hung across his chest. Resembling a baseball batter, he charged toward the Death Corps with sweeping strides. Yet before he could close within ten meters, a 37mm armor-piercing incendiary shell struck him square in the chest, the erupting sparks punching a clean hole straight through him. That was the Alliance's Heavy Lance! An anti-materiel rifle modified using an anti-aircraft cannon barrel and matching ammunition! The colossal recoil nearly hurled the shooting player off his tricycle. Fortunately, the Strength-type brute pedaling the vehicle was sturdy enough, his wildly pumping legs absorbing and bracing against the anti-materiel weapon's backward kick. "Haha, beautiful shot!" Edge Paddler roared. But he quickly reined in his excitement and sharpened his focus to one hundred and twenty percent. Though they had breached the outermost perimeter, the real battle was only just beginning! The soldiers still alive in the military base were battle-hardened veterans. They were already hunkered down behind cover, ready to counterattack at any moment! Not to mention the mutants! Those monsters possessed physical capabilities that defied all reason, effectively making them humanoid tanks. The century of mutant mercenaries had long grown impatient. The moment they saw intruders storm the camp, they let out savage roars and charged straight toward the Death Corps. "Rip them apart!" "Tear their heads off!" "Roar—!" Those pairs of eyes gleamed with a thirst for blood and flesh. These beast-like monsters were not limited to primitive melee weapons. They also knew how to shoot, throw projectiles, and use crude contraptions they had cobbled together. Though their marksmanship left something to be desired, they still caused plenty of trouble for Squad A in the vanguard. Fortunately, at that moment, Squad C, responsible for fire support, finally circled onto the dune slope to the north. They set up heavy machine guns and 37mm Heavy Lances, leveling their dark, menacing gun and cannon barrels at the mutant mercenaries. "Open fire!" Lying prone on the dune, Roller Washing Machine bellowed, taking the first shot. Receiving their squad leader's command, the others pulled their triggers in unison, their muzzles spitting tongues of fire. Thick, long tracers tore through the night sky, drifting like willow catkins caught in the wind. The mutant mercenaries charging from cover to engage the Death Corps in hand-to-hand combat were instantly cut down in droves. Their armor shattered to pieces, and blood, flesh, and brain matter splattered across the dirt. While their wounds could heal at a visible rate, that didn't mean their heads could regenerate after being blown to bits. Under Roller Washing Machine's direction, Squad C poured a frantic hail of bullets from their mounted weapons into the sea of flames engulfing the base, covering Squad A and the two arriving centuries as they pushed deeper into the installation. "Everyone! Dismount!" With a loud shout, Edge Paddler leapt off his tricycle first, rallying the players in the lead to form up. Covering one another, they pressed forward across the sticky, bloodstained ground. Meanwhile, high in the night sky. Once Squad C successfully completed the fire handover, the Seagull drone ran out of ammunition. To conserve power, it began pulling out of the combat zone. From here on out, the ground forces held the stage! Five Cerberus unmanned ground vehicles, each as sturdy as a young calf, closely trailed Squad A over the sandbag wall. Though their size and payload couldn't match the A-1 Ground Weapon Platform that Kuang Feng had pulled from the gacha, their formidable capacity—a thousand rounds of 12mm machine-gun ammo and twenty-four 60mm airburst grenades—still provided firepower comparable to an armored vehicle. Under the control of Intelligence-type players, these five Cerberuses were like wolves let loose among sheep. Their triangular rotary barrels spun like windmills, spewing ferocious firepower. Pouring down a cascading waterfall of lead, they wove an impenetrable net inside the camp, covering the advancing infantry squads behind them. Beyond that, the Alliance's domestically produced Y-2 Balisong quadcopter drones also coordinated with the infantry in the assault. Compared to the Switchblade, which simply slammed explosive charges into targets' faces, the Balisong featured upgraded power and control systems that afforded far greater sustained fire support. In addition to an adjustable camera suspended beneath its fuselage, it was equipped with a 5mm small-caliber caseless coaxial rifle. The drone could conduct close-range reconnaissance while coordinating pincer attacks on hardened bunkers with frontline troops, or form swarms that struck enemy lines from multiple angles like a plague of locusts. Its utility was remarkably broad. Facing the Death Corps pushing into the base, the Legion soldiers tried to organize a defense, but the close-range firepower unleashed by their attackers was simply too brutal! In particular, the drone's saturated strikes near the garages had practically wiped out the vehicle crews, stranding over fifty tanks before their engines could even turn over. Combined with the preemptive strike by the EMP weapon, all communications were severed. Leave aside headquarters, which had no idea what was happening here—even Chiliarch Piman himself didn't know how many of his men were still alive, where each century and decury was positioned, or what kind of enemy they were facing. Not only had Piman failed to anticipate this, but the centurions and decurions fighting on the front line were also left completely bewildered by the sudden turn of events. There was no helping it; those gas-cylinder mortar bombs earlier had been too misleading. They had assumed only a few guerrilla bands were attacking, so they had merely dispatched one Weasel reconnaissance vehicle and four troop transport trucks, leaving heavy equipment like the Conqueror tanks completely idle. Facing the Death Corps, armed to the teeth with devastating firepower, the disorganized Legion forces couldn't even assemble a full century. They were reduced to squads of ten or smaller, fighting isolated skirmishes around whatever limited cover they could find. Their ammunition and morale couldn't hold out for long, especially after seeing the four-legged Cerberuses and the Switchblades screeching overhead... The fragile defensive lines fell back again and again, finally crumbling into utter chaos. A Legion soldier hoisted a rocket launcher, but just as he aimed at a Cerberus and before he could pull the trigger, an airburst grenade detonated beside his face, blowing away half his head. Charging in front, Edge Paddler swept his LD-47 rifle in a burst of fire, riddling the soldier who tried to pick up the launcher with holes. Two Agility-type players quickly flanked around the side, their rapid bursts eliminating the remaining riflemen behind cover in short order. Flames burned in the distance. Edge Paddler could sense that the resistance from the cohort garrisoned here was down to its last gasps. Pressing his finger to his communicator, he bellowed commands. "Squad B, secure the garages! Stop any enemy crews from reaching the tanks!" "Squads D and F, keep pushing to take the southern positions! There's still a full century to our south—once you secure the machine-gun bunkers, provide immediate fire support to our allies!" "Squad A, on me—assault the command post! Capture their officers!" "Move!" The location of the command post was already marked on their maps. This was intelligence Brother Battlefield had earned with his own ass—they couldn't let it go to waste! Leading his men, Edge Paddler headed straight for the base's command post. The makeshift command building was already deserted; its occupants had clearly relocated to a nearby bomb shelter. A decury guarded the low wall at the entrance to the shelter bunker, attempting to make a final stand behind cover. However, the breaching players gave them no chance to spot anyone, nor did they waste any breath—they summoned a Cerberus directly. An airburst grenade landed behind the barricade with a loud blast, followed by the whirring spin of the triangular rotary barrel. The decury crouching at the bunker's entrance was instantly pulverized into minced meat by the savage firepower. Covered by supporting fire, Edge Paddler personally led a ten-man squad up to the objective. A stun grenade was tossed into the shelter. Following a burst of white light, he led several players inside, bayonet-mounted LD-47 rifles at the ready. "Don't move!" "Surrender immediately!" "Drop your weapons and you won't be killed!" It was the same old three lines. Construction Site Youth and Brick shouted them loudly at Edge Paddler's side. One of the bodyguards clearly refused to yield. Before his eyes had even fully opened, he raised his gun to return fire. Yet before he could aim, a burst of bullets ripped through his chest. The man let out a muffled grunt, unable to even scream in pain before collapsing to the ground like a limp rag. Antoinette drew his pistol, intending to end his own life, but before he could flick off the safety, an entrenching shovel struck his wrist. He cried out in pain and dropped the weapon. "Damn it—" Edge Paddler stepped forward, kicked the pistol away, grabbed the man's arm, twisted it behind his back, and slammed his head down onto an adjacent table. Struggling furiously, Antoinette was about to curse, but before two syllables could leave his mouth, an entrenching shovel chopped down like an axe right beside his neck with a heavy *thud*. The icy sensation and the edge inches from his skin chilled Antoinette to the bone. Pinned against the table, his chest heaved violently. Whatever courage he had mustered to end his own life was thoroughly beaten back down by that blackened shovel. Sometimes, courage required a sudden rush of blood to the head. He wasn't afraid to die, and he had prepared himself to sacrifice his life for the Grand Marshal. But these people clearly had no intention of letting him die easily; they would undoubtedly use that shovel to torture him bit by bit until they extracted every shred of intelligence from his skull... At the thought, Antoinette couldn't help trembling, and he accidentally wet his pants. Assuming the man was still trying to resist, Edge Paddler glared at him and tightened his grip. "Behave yourself!" Standing to the side, Chiliarch Piman had made no move from beginning to end. He merely stared ashen-faced at the dense crowd of men storming the bunker with guns in hand, his heart sinking into despair. Pioneer I exoskeletons. He recognized the equipment. Without a doubt, these people were from the Enterprise! "Cuff them!" Edge Paddler turned and instructed his teammates. Construction Site Youth and Brick pulled out handcuffs without a word and walked toward the chiliarch. Facing the soldier approaching him, Piman offered no resistance, calmly extending both hands. "I surrender." There was no shame in losing to those folks from the East Coast. Their gear was so overpowered it felt like cheating; they were practically one step away from dropping tactical nukes. Besides, those people had moral qualms; being captured by them usually didn't result in terrible treatment... At the same time, the battle to the south had also concluded. After clearing the Legion soldiers around the machine-gun emplacements and watchtowers, Squad D quickly commandeered the fixed weapons and opened fire on the four trucks in the distance. Caught between the Restoration Army and the players, facing fire from both front and rear, the Legion century soon suffered over fifty percent casualties and lost all combat effectiveness. Seizing the opportunity, Ade immediately gave the order, leading a century in a forward charge to capture all the remaining enemies who had lost the will to resist. Meanwhile, the Weasel reconnaissance vehicle that had turned back to support the infantry had its engine blown out by a player's RPG. It broke down in the middle of the road, and a white flag was hoisted from its turret in surrender. With that, the military operation spanning a thousand kilometers could effectively be declared a victory. In the wreckage of the devastated military base, only sporadic gunfire and faint flames remained. In this battle, the Death Corps had killed 652 Legion soldiers and 121 mutant mercenaries, capturing over 470 combat and non-combat personnel. As for their own casualties, miraculously, only 31 players had died. And that number included those who had been severely crippled and voluntarily asked their teammates to "deny" them. Hearing the casualty and kill reports from each squad, Edge Paddler couldn't help sighing with emotion inwardly. Was this the power of silver coins? As long as the gear was top-notch, dying was practically a challenge! Holding his rifle above his head to signal his allied status, Ade walked toward the military base and met Edge Paddler, who was leading prisoners out of the command post. He extended a calloused right hand and gripped the young man's hand firmly. "Thank you for your support!" "Don't mention it. We're allies fighting on the same front," Edge Paddler replied, shaking his hand before letting go. "Though I have to say, you attacked an hour earlier than scheduled. We almost didn't make it in time." It was fortunate that the Legion had underestimated them and hadn't rolled out their tanks, or tonight would have been a bitter slog. Ade froze slightly, then said at once, "Impossible. The orders we received were to attack right at midnight. The messenger sent by Prince Winter even specifically reminded us to set our watches to the Alliance's time zone..." With that, he pulled a crumpled map from his coat and handed it to Edge Paddler. Several brief pieces of intel were marked in pencil on the map, including operation timings, procedures, and the like. Edge Paddler's expression turned slightly odd. He snapped a photo of it and handed the map back. "...Maybe it was a misunderstanding." From his position, it wasn't appropriate to sow discord, but one couldn't rule out the possibility that someone in the Lion Kingdom wanted them dead here. Ade had clearly considered that possibility as well, but he didn't let his anger show, merely nodding calmly. "Right. Let's just treat it as a misunderstanding." Regardless, now was not the time for internal strife. Even if there were grievances, they would have to wait until the war was over. Besides, this had nothing to do with the Alliance that had come to their aid; it was purely an internal matter of the Lion Kingdom. "Let's talk about something pleasant. We've gathered the intelligence we need, including witnesses and physical evidence... in short, things that will give our enemies a massive headache." As he spoke, Edge Paddler glanced at the crates being carried out of the command building and the officers being escorted from the bomb shelter by players. The Alliance had already dispatched an envoy team waiting at the border between Sunset Province and River Valley Province to rendezvous with them. Once the handover was complete, these officers and the arms procurement orders would be sent to the Great Rift Valley, after which the Bugra Free State would likely face a purge. That was the most optimistic scenario. Even if things didn't go that smoothly, the Alliance could still gain a favor—perhaps even friendship—from the north. Speaking of which, the Great Rift Valley was considered one of the background lore's "Fallen Empires," and had once served as the headquarters of the Post-War Reconstruction Committee, even if its presence in the game wasn't quite as prominent as the Enterprise, the Legion, or the Academy. Edge Paddler was genuinely curious about what the map up there looked like. He wondered if Ah Guang had finished making it yet. Ade glanced at Piman and Antoinette standing dejectedly to the side. Though he didn't recognize their faces, their rank insignias indicated they were at least chiliarchs. "...What about the other prisoners?" "They're yours to handle, along with the spoils in this base. I suggest you take as much as you can, and destroy whatever you can't carry—especially those Conqueror tanks." At this point, Edge Paddler glanced at the faint blue text on his VM and added, "By the way, according to the intel we just retrieved, Griffin, the Legion's commander-in-chief in Sunset Province, seems to be planning a new offensive from the north, coordinating with their western forces to encircle the Lion Kingdom's royal capital." Ade's expression grew serious. "I will inform Prince Winter, the marshal of the Lion Kingdom." Edge Paddler nodded. "Good. If you have faster communication channels, you'd better tell him as soon as possible." The battle shifted into the mop-up phase. Although the mission required leaving the equipment here for the local forces, Edge Paddler couldn't resist his buddies' urging and went over to take a look at their spoils. One look, and several players were completely transfixed. Staring obsessively at the tanks parked inside the garages, Construction Site Youth and Brick wore a dreamy expression. "Say, if we drove these tanks out ourselves, wouldn't we have an entire armored formation right off the bat?!" There were fifty of them! Heavy tanks, anti-aircraft vehicles, self-propelled artillery—easily enough to outfit a reinforced battalion! Indebted Big Eye shot him a look. "Do you know how to drive one?" Construction Site Youth and Brick retorted without missing a beat, "No! But I can learn! Besides, do these NPCs know how to drive them?" Hearing the two bicker, Edge Paddler chuckled. "Since the Desert Kings keep dinar reserves, they've obviously imported Legion equipment before, regardless of the channels. Now that Ade has taken over these arms, they clearly have ways to put them to use... As for how they use them, that's not our concern. Time to hit the road." Patting his buddy on the shoulder, he turned and walked toward the northern end of the camp. The Death Corps' tricycles were all parked there. They still had to pedal those tricycles north across the desert to rendezvous with the Alliance envoy team waiting at the provincial border and hand over the prisoners and evidence. Elsewhere. Beside the military base's armory, Restoration Army soldiers were busily loading ammunition, fuel, and weapons onto trucks, preparing to haul them away. Soldiers with driving experience climbed into the tanks to familiarize themselves with the controls. Standing beside Ade, Kraft, a chiliarch of the Restoration Army, asked in a lowered voice, "Are we going to pass that message along to Prince Winter?" Ade fell silent for a moment before finally nodding. "Of course." The big picture took precedence over everything. The Lion Kingdom had ultimately shown them kindness, and the presence of a few petty schemers could not negate that debt of gratitude. Kraft nodded, secretly breathing a sigh of relief. It seemed His Highness hadn't let anger cloud his judgment. Then Kraft looked toward the group of prisoners squatting on the ground nearby. "What about those prisoners?" The Alliance hadn't required them to spare these men, leaving their fate entirely in their hands. Ade glanced at the captives holding their heads in their hands, feeling no ripple of emotion. Killing them would vent his anger, but beyond that, it served no purpose. And... It might bring hardship upon the civilians in the occupied territories. After pondering for a moment, he made his decision. "Keep them alive." "We'll need them to trade for our compatriots."