Moment to Counterattack!

"BOOM——!" City of Abundance. Outside the river levee. An earth-shattering roar completely shattered the afternoon silence. Flying rubble and dust rained down, prompting the Falcon Kingdom soldiers crouched in the trenches to instinctively duck their heads, shielding the mess tins clutched in their arms. "Damn it—" "My ears... fuck!" "What was that sound?" "A nuke...?" That was the rumor that had been circulating through the army lately. The Legion planned to wipe the City of Abundance off the map with a nuclear weapon. Could it be... They'd already used it? Clutching his ringing ears, a soldier scrambled up from the ground, found his steel helmet, put it on, and stuck half his head out of the trench, gazing anxiously toward the City of Abundance. Yet... That despairingly solid river levee still stood. A flicker of despair crossed his numb pupils. As if realizing something, he stiffly craned his neck, trying to turn around. The moment he looked behind him, his constricted pupils suddenly lost their light, and the despair hidden deep within the windows of his soul washed across his entire face. Smoke. Fire. Waving heatwaves. The entire world seemed to be burning. Writhing black smoke bridged the heavens and the earth like a torrential flood pouring down from the River Styx, stretching on without end—whether one looked up, to the left, or to the right. At the center of the blast was a hundred-meter-wide crater. A broad swath of the battlefield had been wiped clean away. The churned-up soil, rubble, and shattered corpses had buried one winding trench after another. Not a single groan came from that place. Only a deathly silence. He remembered that was the defensive position of the 7th Millennium of the 1st Myriad. He even remembered those boys had just swapped positions yesterday with the battered 4th Millennium of the 2nd Myriad. His Adam's apple bobbed slightly. The sound of him swallowing saliva was the only scrap of noise left in this silent world. Just then, rain began to fall from the sky. The raindrops were red. He raised a trembling right hand and touched the tip of his nose with an index finger. That scorching, sticky sensation made his heart almost stop beating. The rain suddenly grew heavier. It turned from a light drizzle into a torrential downpour, turning hard and rapid. More and more shredded flesh and bone fragments slammed down from the sky, clattering against his steel helmet like hailstones. What was all this for? What was the point of his existence here? Terror finally shattered the soldier's psychological defenses. Kneeling in the trench, he clutched his steel helmet with both hands and let out a tearing, heart-wrenching shriek. In the distance came deafening artillery fire, ceaseless gunshots, and war cries surging forward alongside the rumbling clatter of tank tracks... The fury and hatred of tens of thousands dragged the shell-shocked remnants in the trenches out of that soundless void and back to reality— "Charge—!" ... "BANG—!" Thunderous artillery fire sounded like a blaring war horn, shattering the surrounding clouds and gently rocking the *Heart of Steel* as it cruised beneath the overcast skies. A thick pillar of smoke erupted from the 400mm main gun as a shell traced a perfect parabolic arc, plunging toward the surface alongside diving propeller planes. Watching the towering pillar of fire erupting from the ground, Commander Spring, standing beside the deck railing of the *Heart of Steel*, couldn't help smacking his lips in awe. "...That yield is probably no smaller than a tactical nuke." And it was eco-friendly, completely free of radioactive fallout. The crater was just a bit large; filling it back up would take some serious effort. Come to think of it, the last time he saw this thing fire, he had been down on the ground. Viewing it from this new vantage point gave him a completely different sensation. Under the firepower suppression of this "aviation battleship," the Falcon Kingdom's siege lines around the City of Abundance were collapsing at a visible rate. The Goblin Corps' aerial squadron hovered along the perimeter of the blast wave, forty W-2 ground-attack planes strafing targets relentlessly with their autocannons in what was already the second round of airstrikes. I'm the Darkest looked over at Commander Spring beside him. "When do we go in?" "It's not our turn yet." "Damn it, it's almost over!" "The airship is the star of this battle. Leave the charging and breach-clearing to our allies. Our job is to show up at the critical place at the critical moment—like bringing anti-tank weapons to reinforce if enemy armor suddenly shows up... Though looking at it now, that probably won't be necessary." Commander Spring pulled out a pair of binoculars and peered down at the ground. The enemy line was collapsing faster than expected. It seemed the Legion had already abandoned this position... A string of black dots appeared on the distant horizon. The Falcon Kingdom's air squadron attempted to salvage the situation as thirty "Eagle" propeller aircraft plunged into the battlefield from the northwest. Yet from the moment those flashing red dots appeared on the radar screen of the *Heart of Steel*, their fate was already sealed. "Master, enemy aircraft have entered our firing arc!" Over the comm channel, Xiao Qi's voice brimmed with enthusiasm. Standing before the bridge's floor-to-ceiling windows, Chu Guang looked at the clear skies in the distance and pronounced their doom in a flat, unrippled tone. "Fire." "Roger that!" No sooner had the cheerful response landed than a sky full of flaming barrage lit up the heavens in an instant. Rapidly exploding plumes of thick smoke and bursts of fire formed impenetrable walls, suddenly draping a dense black cloud across the vast blue expanse. In the face of such overwhelming firepower, any evasive maneuvers were rendered utterly meaningless. Unless they could break through the entire airspace within a single breath, being shredded into sieves by countless pieces of shrapnel was the only possible outcome. Finode, standing not far away, swallowed hard. This guy had truly mastered how to handle the *Heart of Steel*. He even had the illusion that in this demon's hands, the airship's combat capabilities had jumped by an entire order of magnitude. Under the coordination of the shelter's server and AI system, every single anti-aircraft gun on the *Heart of Steel* was squeezed to its absolute operational limit. In a probabilistic sense, they even accounted for the chaotic Brownian motion of exploding shrapnel, expanding the volume of the fire net by 1.5 times without sacrificing efficiency! Above all, the audacious idea of converting the deck into a runway had practically made Finode's jaw drop to the floor. The *Heart of Steel* could indeed carry aircraft, but those were usually VTOL craft. This method of hurling propeller planes off the deck like paper airplanes was genuinely beyond his wildest imagination. Weren't they worried at all about accidents? "All enemy aerial units have been neutralized!" Xiao Qi's report came through the comm channel. Chu Guang gave a slight nod, tearing his gaze away from the smoke-choked sky in the distance and looking back toward the nearby City of Abundance. Across the smoke-veiled battlefield, Prince Winter led the Scarab Myriad surging out from the river levee's west gate. With the assistance of the Honey Badger Kingdom Restoration Army, they completely routed the Falcon Kingdom's 1st Myriad defensive line. In truth, before they even charged out from the levee, the Falcon Kingdom's defenses had already been teetering on the brink of collapse. Repeated diving strafes and bombing runs from thirty W-2 ground-attack aircraft had knocked out nearly every fixed firing position on the field. And four heavy 400mm high-explosive and incendiary shells plunging from the sky had completely broken the soldiers' psychological resolve. Far more soldiers threw down their weapons and raised their hands in surrender than those killed on the spot by artillery. Though many put up a stubborn last stand, it did nothing to alter their predetermined defeat. No nukes were deployed to the airfield closest to this area, and the Legion hadn't even authorized the deployment of more aircraft. In fact, as early as last night, Alliance reconnaissance planes had discovered that at least three myriads and two artillery squadrons had already begun withdrawing to the northwest. Those left behind to fight a rearguard action were merely pawns Griffin had fed to the Alliance to buy time. With supply lines to the north unsustainable, this was the most pragmatic assessment, and Griffin's decision had been exceptionally decisive. Abandon fortresses they couldn't take, initiate a strategic withdrawal without hesitation the moment the situation turned sour, and never underestimate the seemingly unassuming Alliance. That old fox was even craftier than he had imagined. Taking caution into account, Chu Guang did not order the airship to push deep behind enemy lines to pursue the retreating forces. The Alliance would never design a weapon it couldn't counter; he had good reason to believe the Legion held trumps capable of taking down the *Heart of Steel* as well. According to Chief Researcher Yin Fang, graviton manipulation technology was by no means invincible. Otherwise, the Prosperity Era would not have come to such an abrupt and messy close. When a desperate gamble was necessary, Chu Guang would push all his chips into the center without hesitation. But when a safer alternative existed, he would choose the latter just as readily. The *Heart of Steel* would not abandon the frontline to push deep into enemy territory. Chu Guang would lead the flagship personally, advancing steadily step by step alongside the battle line. The outcome of the counteroffensive at the City of Abundance was no longer in doubt. By comparison, he was far more concerned about the situation to the south. If his initial strategic assessment had been correct, the Legion's nukes were likely already being deployed to the airfield in Lost Valley... Staring out at the battlefield through the floor-to-ceiling glass, Vannus pondered for a moment before suddenly speaking up. "It's too fast." Chu Guang looked at him. "Fast?" "Yeah..." Vannus nodded, lost in thought. "I haven't seen a shred of effective resistance." Chu Guang smiled faintly. "Isn't that a good thing?" "It's not bad, but it feels odd..." Vannus considered for several seconds, then said, "Where are Griffin's tanks? Since yesterday, we haven't spotted a single one. The Honey Badger Kingdom Restoration Army pushed into the river levee virtually unobstructed. If I were him, I would never have let those two forces link up." A tank stripped of infantry support was a spear without a shaft. Given the circumstances, he could easily have dispatched several anti-tank teams alongside armored units to intercept the Restoration Army. They wouldn't even have needed to annihilate them. The Falcon Kingdom only needed to pin them down beneath the levee. Once tanks stopped moving, no matter how thick their armor, they became nothing more than iron coffins. "Even if this is Sunset Province, far from the west coast, and even if they don't have that many tanks here in total, this is still bizarre..." Pausing for a few seconds as he watched Chu Guang fall into thought, Vannus voiced the rest of his theory. "It's not like all their tanks could be at Camp 530, right?" ... In the desert east of Oasis No. 4, three hundred kilometers from Twin Peaks, dusk began to settle over the barren sands. Tanks flickered in and out of sight amidst the howling yellow dust, revealing only thick cannon barrels and turrets draped in desert-camo netting. The fronts of the hulls had been reinforced with sandbags and completely buried in the sand. These tanks were primarily Conqueror 5 light tanks and Conqueror 10 heavy tanks. To stretch the defensive line as wide as possible, the tanks were spaced far apart, with the broad gaps between them filled by foxholes occupied by prone infantrymen. At the northernmost end of the line sat a strangely shaped tank. It possessed no turret. Its gun barrel was embedded directly into a wedge-shaped chassis. Even more startlingly, its tracks were not recessed within the hull, but mounted externally like tires. An officer in a navy-blue uniform poked half his torso out from the top hatch, holding a pair of binoculars, his hooked nose pointing straight toward the east. His name was Stan, a tank commander serving under Griffin and the commanding officer of the Falcon Kingdom's 1st Directly Subordinate Armored Motorized Millennium. Several days ago, General Griffin had personally briefed him on this operation. "...Our plan is not foolproof. If they see through our intentions, sending a motorized force to raid our airfield is their only option—and their last hope. What you must do is bar that final door!" Although all of this was predicated on the premise that "the Alliance has seen through our plan," a possibility that was exceedingly slim, it was by no means impossible. Yet Stan was not worried. Fifty Conqueror 5 light tanks, forty Conqueror 10 and 11 heavy tanks, plus the "Prowler" beneath him. Add to that a thousand motorized infantry and a vast array of anti-tank and anti-personnel equipment, and they had cast a massive net across a frontline over a dozen kilometers wide. Whether it was a thousand men or ten thousand! None would breach this wall of steel! Just then, the voice of a scout reporting enemy vehicles came through the comm channel. Although the rust-laden desert winds caused static to crackle across the frequency, he still caught the key words. After repeating the message several times, the scout cut the connection. Stan lowered his binoculars, adjusted the headset hooked over one ear, and issued an order in a cold, merciless voice. "All units, attention. Enemy units are advancing from due south toward Sector G5." "Operation commence!" The moment his words fell, a deafening explosion abruptly echoed from afar, and a plume of smoke slowly rose over the horizon. A look of slight bewilderment surfaced on Stan's face. The direction where that smoke rose... Seemed to be his own position? When he had ambushed in advance and his scouts had spotted the enemy first, the opposing side had actually managed to fire the opening shot... How could that be?! Chaotic, noisy clamor poured through his headset. "...This is Squad 7! 'Hunter' and 'Obsidian' have been destroyed! We are under attack by an enemy tank cluster, we need reinforcement!" "Fuck—" A thunderous cannon blast cut the tank commander off. Gunner curses, loader bellows, the frantic jamming of shells into breeches, metallic clanging, and the stuttering chatter of coaxial machine guns painted a clear picture of frantic, brutal chaos. When he heard that "Hunter" had been destroyed, Stan's brow furrowed with deep gravity. "Hunter" and "Obsidian" were the callsigns for the No. 3 and No. 4 crews of Squad 7—a Conqueror 10 and a Conqueror 11 heavy tank! The former went without saying. But the latter possessed an equivalent armor thickness of nearly 1.5 meters! Not only did it have spaced armor and anti-spall liners, it was even entrenched behind sandbags. How could such a "mobile fortress" be penetrated in a single shot?! Whatever Squad 7 had run into, now was not the time for hesitation. Stan had no time for shock and wasted no more breath. He pulled his torso back inside the Prowler's hull. With a piercing buzz of electric current, a transparent film seemed to coat the dark-gray tank's surface, and a faint layer of frost even formed in the shadows beneath the cannon barrel! Communications went completely dead. Before entering full radio silence, he handed over command authority to the captain of the Falcon Kingdom's 1st Directly Subordinate Armored Motorized Millennium. In exchange for that silence, he gained armor bordering on invulnerability! Those savages would never imagine the Legion still held this trump card! The corners of Stan's mouth curved into a cold sneer. Gripping the fire control levers with both hands, he calmly switched on the rangefinder and optical zoom sights, then looked toward the driver sitting ahead and barked an order. "Target: Sector G5—" "Forward!" The hunt— had begun! ... Across the boundless sea of sand, an encounter battle erupted between the Alliance's Skeleton Corps and the Falcon Kingdom's armored millennium. Thirty-five No. 2 tanks and five hundred armored grenadiers faced nearly a hundred Conqueror tanks and nearly a thousand light infantry entrenched behind fortifications. Although the crisis premonition of Perception-type players and Brother Fugui's "thermal vision" had allowed the Skeleton Corps to detect the ambush ahead of time—enabling them to deploy personnel and equipment before the clash erupted and avoid being caught off guard— it did not change the numerical disparity between the two sides. Both forces were the elites of their respective factions, and each held hidden trumps unknown to the other. This was destined to be a bitter fight! Just as this clash of iron and blood began, the slaughter two hundred kilometers away had already reached a fever pitch. Nearly the entire garrison of Petra Fortress had deployed. Over twenty thousand high-spirited soldiers rallied under Castellan Sai'en, marching toward Lost Valley under the guidance of their faith. Every vehicle in Petra Fortress had been requisitioned—motorcycles, trucks, ox carts, and horse carriages were all pressed into service to transport troops and supplies and tow artillery. The billowing dust looked like a rolling sandstorm. General Maclen was clearly no blind man. He quickly detected the movement to the west and immediately dispatched his forces to deploy along the ruins of Highway 7. Fierce fighting erupted fifty kilometers from the airfield. Because neither side had adequately prepared for this engagement, the firefight swiftly devolved into a brutal melee. Across a frontline stretching over a dozen kilometers, gunshots and artillery roared incessantly. The combatants could only rely on general directions to vaguely distinguish friend from foe in the falling dusk, firing blindly toward muzzle flashes. As for advancing, falling back, or holding ground, units had to rely on small slips of paper delivered intermittently by runners. The setting sun stretched the valley's shadows long, bathing the entire desert in a coat of blood. Just as the fighting reached its fiercest peak, a cuirassier cavalry unit of roughly a thousand men, led by Castellan Sai'en's guard captain, skirted along the Zhuobar Mountains and circled around to the southern side of Lost Valley. Most of the Legion and Falcon Kingdom forces had been drawn toward the eastern and northern sectors. This was the weak point in their line, held by only a scattering of machine-gun nests and watchtowers. They would serve as a dagger, stabbing into the beast's soft underbelly and bursting out through its spine, using explosives and grenades strapped to their saddles to destroy the planes parked at the northern airfield—or at least wreck the runway... Arriving alongside them were the members of the White Bear Knights, driving their armed truck. "We'll part ways here." The guard captain reined in his mount and rode up beside the truck, looking at the three girls and one bear inside. "We'll do everything we can to destroy those two planes. As for stopping the ritual to summon the evil god, we leave that to you!" Sitting in the passenger seat, Sesame Paste nodded earnestly. "Leave it to us... Be careful out there." "I will." The guard captain grinned, knocked his right fist against his steel cuirass, wheeled his black warhorse around, and grabbed the carbine slung over his saddle. No grand declarations. No resounding slogans. He merely kicked his horse's flanks and spurred to the front of the formation. Seeing this, the thousand-odd cavalrymen behind him fell into step with practiced cohesion. And then— they charged. Hoofbeats rolled across the plains like thunder, kicking up a vast curtain of dust over the gravel desert as they galloped unflinchingly toward the Legion's encampment. "To think I'd get to see a cavalry charge in the twenty-fourth century..." Rou Rou's face was filled with wonder as she stared intently toward the north. "Whoa..." Tail, resting her hands on the machine gun, also gazed northward, murmuring softly beneath her astonishment. "...I hope you guys come back alive." Those people felt so real to her, just like living beings. "We should get moving too." Sisi glanced into the rearview mirror, then looked at the passenger seat beside her. After receiving resolute gazes in return, she restarted the truck and drove toward the southern side of Lost Valley. The Petra cavalry's objective was the southern defensive line and the northern airfield. Their odds of punching through the line were fifty-fifty at best, and that was under the most optimistic scenario. As for them, their target was Lost Valley itself. Sisi hadn't expected they would still receive a mission from the Administrator through the official website while outside communications range. Conveniently, the mission destination coincided perfectly with their goal for this trip: inside the ruins of that "river levee." According to the various clues they had gathered, the Legion was searching for something there. Whatever it was, they could not allow the Legion to find it. It was quite strange when she thought about it. She was practically the only person updating information about Oasis No. 4 and Lost Valley on the forums. Logically, aside from players, the Alliance's NPCs shouldn't know what was happening out here. Could NPCs surf the web too? If so, this game was really a bit too "realistic"... ... North of Lost Valley, inside the command tent of the Legion encampment. General Maclen stood before a strategic map and a radio station, directing the deployment and maneuvering of frontline forces. The Camel Hump Kingdom's soldiers were no match for the Falcon Kingdom. In terms of both military doctrine and organizational discipline, they were not even on the same playing field. The former's only advantage was perhaps their devout faith, and that rarely translated into an edge on a conventional battlefield. Petra Fortress, with barely twenty thousand men, could not possibly defeat him. Yet even though everything remained under his control, standing with his boots on solid ground still left him feeling uneasy. Pity it would take some time to recapture the airship. At the thought, Maclen couldn't help cursing internally. Only now did he begin to realize he had been played for a fool by that skunk. He had come here specifically to find that Titan's shield core! As long as they secretly recovered that core and refitted it into a weapon to fire at the *Heart of Steel*, they could bring that flying monstrosity crashing down from the sky. Instead, Griffin had slapped him with an order demanding he construct an airfield. While dropping a nuke on the Alliance's head sounded delightful, turning this place into the frontline was another matter entirely. Now look what happened. The Alliance had seen through that skunk's clumsy scheme and somehow persuaded the fence-sitting Camel Hump Kingdom to act. Right now, only one or two myriads were attacking, which wasn't hard to deal with. But what about afterward? Having deduced the nuclear strike plan, the Alliance had undoubtedly dispatched forces toward this region. Dropping a nuke on Qingquan City wouldn't wipe out those marching troops. Furthermore, only the garrison of Petra Fortress had deployed so far; neighboring Oasis No. 4 had nearly a hundred thousand standing troops! No matter how elite the Legion-trained Falcon Kingdom forces were, they weren't supermen capable of fighting ten to one. When that time came, he'd probably have to flee by plane again... "It's time." The pilot inside the command post checked his watch once more. In truth, there was still a short while before the scheduled departure, but lingering here filled him with a growing sense of dread. Maclen waved a hand. "Go on... Make it quick." The pilot nodded, scooped up his helmet from the table, and walked out of the tent. The escort fighter had already taken off under his orders. Once nearby airspace was confirmed clear, the H-55 "Hurricane" carrying the nuclear warhead would follow. Just as the pilot stepped outside, an officer jogged in, snapped a salute beside General Maclen, and reported loudly: "Report! A cavalry unit has appeared to our south!" Staring at the map on the table, Maclen issued orders calmly. "Dispatch the five wheeled scout cars from the camp. And notify Weisde to take the camp's motorized century and reinforce the southern positions immediately! They must be stopped before reaching the runway!" "Yes, sir!" The officer saluted and quickly jogged out. Watching the figure vanish through the doorway, Maclen felt a slight sense of relief. He had kept this reserve force in hand without committing it to the front specifically to guard against sneak attacks by those natives. Those savages had come after all! Cavalry? Maclen let out a cold sneer. He would show them what a foolish mistake it was to oppose the Legion. Yet right at that moment, air raid sirens suddenly began wailing outside the tent. Maclen froze for a second, momentarily wondering if his ears were playing tricks on him. Aside from here, where else nearby had an airfield? Just then, another officer pushed through the tent flap and hurried inside. Maclen read the gravity of the situation off the man's terrified face. Before he could ask, the officer blurted out in a rush: "Aircraft are approaching us—" "Are they Alliance or Enterprise?" Maclen grabbed him by the collar, demanding urgently, "Where are our planes? Have they taken off?" The barrage of questions made the officer's head spin. Looking at the nose almost poking into his eye, he shook his head in panic. "I... I don't know!"