Outpost base reception room.
Having hurried over from Embassy Street, Yi Chuan finally caught Chu Guang as he emerged from the shelter. Getting straight to the point, he asked,
"Is Macklen in your hands?"
Chu Guang gave him a long look and nodded.
"That's right."
Yi Chuan blinked in mild surprise.
He had expected Chu Guang to deflect or feign ignorance, never imagining he would admit to it so directly.
Seeing that the man remained silent for a moment, Chu Guang had a fair idea of what he wanted to say, but politely asked nonetheless,
"Is there a problem?"
Snapping back to reality, Yi Chuan cleared his throat softly.
"Uh, it's nothing too serious. The board asked me to inquire whether you could transfer Macklen into our custody. After all, he is a major war criminal. Sending him off to shovel coal is... somewhat inappropriate, and it could undermine future ceasefire negotiations."
"Ceasefire negotiations?" Chu Guang gave him an odd look. "Where in the world are we even at that stage yet?"
Anticipating such a reaction, Yi Chuan patiently continued,
"We have already liberated Oasis No. 9 and captured Macklen. The bargaining chips in our hands are more than enough to bring the Legion to the negotiating table."
"To negotiate what?"
"Their withdrawal, of course. Their supply lines are crippled, leaving them unable to sustain an offensive, and on our end, we cannot break through their defensive line anytime soon. Continuing to fight is nothing more than a war of attrition, grinding down each other's vital strength. The practical foundation for a ceasefire already exists. They will consider it."
Seeing Chu Guang open his mouth to speak, Yi Chuan hurriedly added,
"Don't be so quick to dismiss it. Why not hear out our proposal first?"
Chu Guang gave a slight nod, gesturing with his eyes for him to go on.
Yi Chuan paused briefly before continuing.
"We intend to trade Macklen and the other prisoners of war, along with the Heart of Steel, in exchange for the crew of the Pioneer. As for the matter of Vault 0, it can be temporarily set aside. Of course, since you are currently utilizing the Heart of Steel, we will not leave you uncompensated. As reimbursement, we will leave the Pioneer to you. What do you think?"
Objectively speaking, the proposal was quite sincere.
A Pioneer land fortress was far more useful to the Alliance than an airship converted around a frigate's core. That behemoth was essentially a mobile industrial zone; as long as raw material supplies were adequate, it could effortlessly handle the logistics of an entire division.
Otherwise, the Legion would not have coveted it so desperately, mounting pursuit after pursuit and even going through the trouble of deploying the Heart of Steel to hunt down Luo Hua.
Even so, a faint frown crept onto Chu Guang's face.
Was he the sort of man who would sell out his allies for profit?
"What about Oasis 3?"
Yi Chuan froze, regarding Chu Guang with a strange expression, appearing caught off guard by his sudden mention of an inconsequential location.
Realizing Chu Guang was not joking, Yi Chuan collected himself and said in a grave tone,
"It is unrealistic to expect the Legion to surrender territory they have already occupied. However, we can exert pressure on them to force the Legion's own troops to pull out of Oasis 3... As for what remains, it can be left to the survivors of Sunset Province to resolve on their own."
Though couched in diplomatic phrasing, the underlying meaning was unmistakable: throwing the Honey Badger Kingdom under the bus.
From a pragmatic standpoint, there was nothing unusual about doing so.
The enemy of an enemy was a friend worth uniting with, but such temporary friendship was predicated on the necessity of continued fighting.
As long as a ceasefire could be achieved to halt the Legion's eastward expansion, a single oasis was entirely expendable from Enterprise's perspective.
Those people were never truly aboard the same war chariot anyway; they merely happened to be huddled in the same trench. If anyone was to blame, they had only themselves to blame for failing to hold out for even a single week.
In truth, Chu Guang had no desire to wage war either. The Alliance was still in its infancy and desperately needed development; peace naturally aligned better with the Alliance's interests.
Provided, however, that it was a genuine peace.
Not a brief breather for both sides before jumping back up to trade blows.
"Even if it is to be left to the survivors of Sunset Province to resolve on their own, that should only happen after we have liberated Oasis 3 and disbanded the armed forces of the Falcon Kingdom."
Yi Chuan stood stunned for two seconds before letting out a wry smile.
"My friend... do you truly believe that is realistic?"
"Why wouldn't it be?" Chu Guang countered.
Yi Chuan reminded him,
"The Legion has redeployed ten clone regiments to the frontline."
Without hesitation, Chu Guang said,
"We will deal with them, naturally."
Yi Chuan grew anxious.
"And what happens after you deal with them? What if they redeploy another ten clone regiments? Consumables that mature in two years can be produced in whatever quantity they desire. Can you kill them all?"
"Precisely because they cannot all be killed one by one, we intend to solve this problem once and for all," Chu Guang said, staring firmly into his eyes. "My friend, didn't we agree to drive out those jackals together, down to the very last one?"
"...That is the ultimate objective. We never expected to achieve it in a single stroke—that is completely unrealistic," Yi Chuan said, shaking his head and pleading earnestly. "Quit while you're ahead."
Chu Guang's expression did not waver in the slightest.
"Quitting while ahead comes after the fight is finished, not halfway through. Our people have shed a great deal of blood, and we have fought tooth and nail to secure a sliver of an advantage, seizing that jackal by the throat. If I don't take this opportunity to snap its neck, I won't be able to sleep at night."
Yi Chuan fell silent for a long moment.
Perhaps realizing that pressing further would yield no progress, he let out a resigned sigh and settled for the next best thing.
"Going back to the first issue, at least extradite General Macklen to our custody—"
Yet his concession did not buy any compromise from his ally. Chu Guang remained entirely unyielding, shaking his head.
"Now is not the time to discuss the disposition of prisoners of war. Even if we do, it will have to wait until this war is over."
Seeing that this man would not budge an inch, Yi Chuan nearly choked on his own breath, his face turning red with frustration.
"If you act like this, I won't be able to answer to the board!"
Judging by his expression, Chu Guang knew he had pushed this honest fellow nearly to his limit, so he quickly softened his tone.
"It isn't that I want to put you in a bind, but nobody across the Alliance would agree to a ceasefire at this point... How about this: I guarantee you that this war will be brought to an end before the year is out."
Yi Chuan ground his teeth.
"And if it isn't finished by the end of the year?"
Chu Guang replied in a relaxed tone,
"If it isn't over by year's end, then I will accept your terms and sit down with the Legion to talk."
...
Personal friendship was one matter; collective interest was another. When negotiating with Enterprise on behalf of the Alliance, Chu Guang had not spared Yi Chuan much face.
The whole reason he had tossed Macklen into a coal mine was precisely to prevent him from having excessive contact with Enterprise, denying their old friends on the east coast room for wishful thinking.
The board of directors consisted of many voices, and majority opinion inevitably swayed with the vote count.
"Unwavering support" and "reluctance to spend money and wanting to pull out of the war" seemed like contradictory stances, but when applied to Enterprise, there was no contradiction at all—if anything, that vacillation was the norm.
Chu Guang knew full well that when firmness was called for, one had to stand resolute. One could never feel bashful simply because one was living off another's financial backing.
The moment he opened that breach and handed Macklen over to Enterprise, the board on the east coast would promptly begin squabbling over whether to use Macklen to negotiate a separate peace with the Legion. If that squabble produced some bizarre outcome, it would introduce further variables into the strategic situation.
At least regarding this war, he did not believe it was a matter open for debate.
After departing from Chu Guang's office, Yi Chuan returned to Embassy Street, agonizing over how to draft his report for the board.
As it happened, Yun You was there as well. Seeing the gloomy frown on his face, she could not help but speak up.
"Any results?"
Yi Chuan shook his head.
"None."
Yun You knitted her brows slightly and lowered her crossed arms.
"I'll go talk to him."
Yi Chuan hurriedly stopped her.
"Don't... We finally managed to make a little progress. Let's take it slowly; leave this to me."
Yun You stared at him for a moment before suddenly speaking.
"If you ask me, you're coddling them too much."
"We poured over a billion into helping them fight this war and upgrade their industries. We are the investors! If you don't speak with more backbone, those survivors will only treat you like a pushover, walking all over you just like they're doing right now... If you can't handle this, I will submit a report to the board requesting a representative who can better champion Enterprise's interests."
Yi Chuan had no idea how to refute her, only managing a bitter smile.
"I'll try again... Just give me some time."
...
Unable to withstand Yi Chuan's relentless badgering, Chu Guang ultimately made a minor concession, having Macklen and his adjutant transferred out of the coal mines in Xizhou City and placed in private quarters.
This was not entirely due to the board's demands.
Rather, according to what Yi Chuan had disclosed, Ideal City intended to send journalists at the end of the month to interview General Macklen and other captured officers.
If those journalists discovered any suspicion of prisoner abuse within the Alliance, it would undoubtedly tarnish the reputation the Alliance had worked so hard to build.
According to Yi Chuan, the residents of Ideal City preferred to see the Alliance convince others through reason, using the "light of civilization" to reform those war prisoners until they recognized the barbarity of their actions and repented from the bottom of their hearts.
Chu Guang naturally scoffed at such notions.
Since ancient times, the thing capable of taming wild beasts had never been civilization, but the whip, the club, and the atomic bomb. If one truly wished for them to recognize their wrongdoing, sending them into coal pits to discover the distinction between human and beast through hard labor was the far better course.
Moreover, compared to how those Wilans treated their slaves and other survivors, the Alliance's measures were already downright merciful.
Still, considering that the Alliance still needed the support of its old friends, Chu Guang refrained from arguing the point.
In any case, the Alliance's prisoner count was already nearing thirty percent of its total population.
The coal pits would hardly miss one or two men.
...
Southeast of Oasis 3.
After gorging on meals in the rear for over a month, Battlefield Guy finally found a chance to reach the front line, shifting locations to continue wasting provisions.
A sand-colored convertible jeep came to a halt at the foot of a dune.
Following Officer Korwei out of the vehicle, Battlefield Guy cast an eye over the surrounding positions.
A crisscrossing network of trenches linked the rolling hills into a continuous front; at a glance, the entire landscape seemed studded with firing slits.
Beyond the trenches reinforced with timber and sandbags, camouflaged machine gun bunkers and semi-buried anti-aircraft gun emplacements dotted the defensive line.
Over a hundred thousand infantrymen were dispersed along a front stretching tens of kilometers, sealing the entire position as tight as an iron bucket—so secure that not even a fly could slip through.
Stepping down from the vehicle, Korwei turned toward a soldier waiting beside a bunker and ordered,
"Inform the acting captain of the 7th Centuria to assemble his entire unit here."
"Yes, sir!"
The soldier snapped to attention with a salute, immediately trotted over to an adjacent dugout, and quickly returned alongside an officer.
"Beaufort, acting captain of the 7th Centuria, reporting for duty!"
After a brief wait...
The squads crouching in the trenches also vacated their firing positions one after another. Under the command of their decurions, they gathered beside the bunker, forming a passably orderly formation.
Frankly, had Battlefield Guy not witnessed the vicious display of these clone soldiers during combat on the northern outskirts of Qingquan City, he would never have believed they possessed much fighting capability.
Unlike normally developed clones...
Most of these clone soldiers had vacant stares and sluggish reactions, their bodies bearing more or less obvious physiological defects, along with overt or hidden injuries left behind from previous battles.
An eightfold growth rate was their sole advantage: taking merely two years to reach the physical condition of a sixteen-year-old, hitting peak physical prowess in three, entering senescence by five, and readily proceeding to funeral arrangements shortly after discharge.
In reality, no clone soldier ever lived safely to discharge. Those congenital physiological defects were engineered precisely to prevent them from living long lives and becoming a burden on society.
In the Prosperity Era, such technology would have been deemed thoroughly inhumane.
Yet in the Wasteland Era, where nuclear warheads were tossed around at will, nobody bothered to care about such trivial moral qualms.
"Our chiliarchy is responsible for sector G35, and your assignment is sub-sector G35-7... From today onward, these men are under your command!"
Standing beside Battlefield Guy, Korwei looked out at the dense mass of over a hundred clone soldiers lined up before the trench, his eyes narrowing in satisfaction.
It was a pity the supplies had failed to keep pace.
Had ammunition been more plentiful, there would have been no need for them to retreat; relying on these hundred thousand troops would have been more than enough to flatten the Alliance.
"Can they even understand what I say?" Battlefield Guy could not resist grumbling.
"Of course they can. Why wouldn't they?"
A smile appeared on Korwei's face as he clapped him on the shoulder.
"I know what you're worried about, but there is no need to fret. They may look a bit dim, but they aren't dim in the slightest when the fighting begins. Once they see blood, they turn into fearless mad dogs, battling until the last man falls... Commanding them is far less troublesome than commanding ordinary soldiers."
Pausing briefly, he continued,
"In addition, the decurions here will assist you with your duties. They are all officers from the Falcon Kingdom who have undergone professional military training. If you run into situations where you are unsure what to do, you can consult their opinions."
Korwei had no concerns regarding Pangolin's combat prowess.
His valor and loyalty had both been proven in practice, but a good soldier did not necessarily make a good general. He still required the baptism of fire to demonstrate that he possessed command skills comparable to any other.
Taking advantage of this rare opportunity, Korwei intended to groom him.
Fully aware of how important this opportunity was, Battlefield Guy took a deep breath and gave a solemn nod.
"I'll keep that in mind."
Assuming the expression stemmed from nervousness over impending combat, Korwei grinned and patted the man's shoulder.
"Relax a little. There shouldn't be any fighting in the short term, but one can never be too careful... In any case, take care of yourself, stay safe, and proceed with caution in everything."
Leaving behind those words, Korwei climbed back into the nearby jeep and drove off toward where he had come from.
Watching the billowing dust vanish down the dirt track, Battlefield Guy kept his face neutral while sighing deeply within.
If only things were truly that optimistic.
Yesterday on the forum, he had leaked the coordinates of the defensive line he would be overseeing, and those bored bastards had immediately clamored to come deliver him a generous present.
Estimating that the raid would likely happen at night, Battlefield Guy decided to inspect the trenches first to familiarize himself with the terrain, so he could put on a convincing performance when the time came.
"Your name... is Beaufort, correct?" Battlefield Guy looked toward the former acting captain, who was now reverting to the role of deputy centurion to serve as his adjutant.
The man snapped to attention with a salute.
"Yes, sir!"
Battlefield Guy nodded with a solemn expression, swept his gaze over the assembled soldiers, and said,
"From this moment forth, I am your commanding officer. Regardless of where you hail from, whether noble or commoner, you now share only one identity: soldiers under my command! Your sole duty is strict discipline and obedience to my orders. You will do whatever I tell you to do. Do you understand?"
The clone soldiers bobbed their heads blankly, their faces devoid of much intellect.
Their officers, however, possessed normal intelligence; standing ramrod straight, they bellowed in unison,
"Understood!"
"Very good!"
Battlefield Guy gave a satisfied nod, then turned back to Beaufort. "Have the men return to their posts. Show me around the positions."
Beaufort saluted crisply.
"Yes, sir!"
Officers trained by the Legion truly left nothing to be desired in terms of discipline.
Moreover, officers of retainer origin held humble status to begin with, having virtually no prospect of promotion outside exceptional circumstances. Consequently, no one was foolish enough to challenge this newly arrived "Pangolin."
On top of that, Beaufort could tell that this parachute centurion was not only remarkably powerful—a rare Awakened—but also shared close ties with their chiliarch, which prompted a subtly fawning tone in his speech.
Battlefield Guy paid little mind to the flattery, merely feigning approval of his work before subtly prying into the supply situation.
That included how many rounds each soldier possessed, how many machine guns and rifles were stationed across the line, the organizational breakdown of the squads, and so forth.
A centuria roughly corresponded to a company, while a chiliarchy was roughly equivalent to a regiment. By understanding the company-level firepower distribution, one could essentially extrapolate the firepower of the entire regiment.
The moment he heard this new centurion inquire about ammunition, Beaufort immediately began airing his grievances.
"...We haven't seen a resupply truck with munitions for quite some time. The soldiers average fewer than sixty rounds each, and machine gun ammo is even scarcer—our entire company was allocated just two crates. Perhaps you could speak with Lord Korwei and have him send over more ammunition?"
In Beaufort's view, it was merely a matter of putting in a word. However dire the supply shortage, exceptions could always be made for someone with connections.
Yet to his astonishment, the commanding officer before him adopted an unyielding stance of righteous indignation, rejecting the notion outright.
"We aren't the only ones facing difficulties; the entire army is struggling! How could we trouble Lord Korwei over such a minor issue?"
"B-but with the meager ammunition we have right now, I'm afraid that in a single engagement—"
Beaufort panicked upon hearing this and scrambled to explain, but before he could finish, he was mercilessly cut off.
"But what?"
Battlefield Guy glared unblinkingly at his adjutant. Chuckling internally, he had to maintain a deadpan, severe expression, nearly giving himself internal injuries from holding it in.
"Where is your fighting spirit? Your loyalty? Your oath to offer your life to His Majesty the Marshal? You can't fight without bullets? Where is your willpower and backbone!"
Beaufort's face was a portrait of utter bewilderment. His mouth hung open, unable to utter a syllable, and he reflexively glanced at this officer's nose.
This guy...
He isn't even a Wilan, is he?
Why does he sound even more fanatic than a Wilan?!
Just then, a shout rang out from the direction of the observation post.
"Unidentified armed forces spotted five hundred meters ahead! Roughly a hundred men!"
"They are advancing toward our position!"
The moment the lookout's call rang out, alarm bells instantly wailed across the entire defensive line, and all personnel scrambled into combat positions.
Battlefield Guy ceased his bickering with Beaufort.
Hearing that people had arrived, he rushed straight to the frontline machine gun bunker, raised his binoculars, and instantly caught sight of Indebted Big Eye charging at the very front.
The man was an Intelligence-type, yet he had not even brought his VM. Clutching a beat-up rifle presumably scavenged from some earlier battle, he was leading his troops in a headlong charge straight at him.
Peering through the binoculars, Battlefield Guy was dumbfounded.
Good grief.
He isn't even trying to act!
He might as well have tattooed the words 'I'M HERE TO FEED KILLS' across his forehead.
Also observing the frontal assault, Beaufort furrowed his brow, refusing to let down his guard despite the enemy being riddled with obvious tactical flaws.
Their ammunition was scarce.
Even against a suicidal charge like this, several more waves would exhaust their endurance. Moreover, Lord Korwei had specifically instructed that the enemy must not detect any issues with their supply status.
For a moment, he found himself caught in a dilemma.
Should the machine gun position open fire or not?
"It's likely a probe by a small enemy force!" Beaufort gritted his teeth, whispering to the officer beside him. "I suggest holding fire until they get closer!"
Battlefield Guy nodded instinctively, but quickly remembered he was on the Legion's side. Without a word, he kicked the dazed machine gunner aside.
"What the hell are you standing around for?"
"Light them the fuck up!"
Before the bewildered machine gunner could make sense of what was happening, Battlefield Guy squatted down at the machine gun position, gripped the spade handles, flipped off the safety, and unleashed a ferocious burst straight toward his dear brothers three hundred meters away.
Exaggerated shrieks echoed in the distance, though they were swiftly drowned out by the roar of gunfire.
Seeing the machine gun bunker spit tongues of fire, the infantrymen huddled in the trenches also opened up, instantly riddling the hundred-plus charging figures with holes.
The wasteland desert offered vast swathes of open ground. Lacking armored support and artillery cover, their fate was sealed the moment they showed their heads.
Forget Awakened—not even an Administrator could have survived that.
As the gunsmoke cleared, not a single living soul remained before the position.
"Cease fire! Everyone cease fire! They're already dead!" standing beside him, Beaufort yelled in desperation.
Had this man not been his superior officer, and had there not been a distinct risk of getting beaten to a pulp, he would have loved nothing more than to plant a boot into Pangolin's backside.
In truth, seeing the other side wiped out, the infantrymen in the trenches had long since stopped firing. But the officer hunkered over the machine gun appeared so blood-crazed that he had failed to notice.
In the span of half a minute, the lunatic had nearly burned through an entire squad's worth of ammunition!
Only when the metallic click of an empty hammer sounded did the index finger glued to the trigger finally release, allowing Beaufort's blood pressure to drop along with it.
Surveying the empty ammunition belt and the red-hot barrel, Battlefield Guy smacked his lips in dissatisfaction and released the warm machine gun grips.
Noticing the machine gunner and his adjutant glaring at him with murderous expressions, Battlefield Guy blinked, then cleared his throat lightly to remind them of who held command.
"Ahem... Don't cry over ammunition. The scarcer our ammo is, the less we can afford to let the enemy look down on us!"
"The enemy commander is most likely watching from behind. If they realize we are short on munitions, the next wave won't be a mere hundred-man unit—it will be planes, tanks, and thousands of men!"
"As long as we destroy their fighting strength, this little bit of ammunition is well worth it!"
Beaufort nodded in a daze.
Though something felt wrong in every conceivable way, the explanation somehow sounded somewhat reasonable. In any case, they had wiped out an entire enemy company, which was an undeniable achievement.
Looking out over the field of corpses beyond the trench, he suddenly felt much of his earlier tension dissipate.
Seeing those comrades who had retreated from the front line—hobbling on crutches, looking frightened out of their wits—he had imagined the enemy to be terrifying monsters.
Now it seemed he had overthought things...
"Turns out the Alliance isn't that big a deal after all."
As he said this, Beaufort felt a sudden surge of confidence.
Staring at the pile of bodies out front, Battlefield Guy offered a silent second of mourning for his brothers, then turned to the surrounding officers.
"Who wants to take some men out to check?"
"I do!"
A decurion crouched in the adjacent trench eagerly raised his hand, his face radiating enthusiasm, clearly hoping to impress his newly appointed commander.
Beaufort had considered volunteering as well, but seeing someone beat him to it, he drew back his hand.
Battlefield Guy looked at the young fellow and nodded.
"Good, full of spirit. Make it quick!"
"Yes, sir!"
The decurion grinned, grabbed the "Ripper" rifle leaning against the trench wall, and led five clone infantrymen out of the trench, heading toward the cluster of corpses.
The frontline was short on ammunition.
Naturally, every bit of enemy weaponry that could be recovered was worth salvaging.
Along the way, they could also rummage around to see if there was any loot worth pocketing.
The young man stepped forward, reaching out to pat down the first corpse.
Yet whether he tripped a hidden switch or one of the bodies lying on the ground had pulled a grenade pin before expiring, a deafening blast suddenly erupted across the flat ground. The men crouching in the trench reflexively ducked their heads before peering back out.
"Fuck!"
"It's a booby trap!"
"Camis!"
Beaufort stared out past the trench, bellowing with bloodshot eyes. Hearing no response, he slammed a heavy fist against the sandbag.
"Dammit! He's dead!"
The trench fell into dead silence.
Looking out at the smoke-shrouded pile of corpses, the men exchanged glances, several swallowing hard.
This was the first casualty to strike right beside them since being deployed to the frontline.
Staring at the mangled decurion, Battlefield Guy was similarly frozen in place for a long time, eyes wide.
Booby traps inside the clothes? Seriously?
This wasn't what they had agreed on yesterday!
Thank goodness he hadn't gone out there to show off, or that blast would have sent him straight back to the revive point to reunite with his brothers.
Never expecting to suffer a combat loss on his very first day taking command, Battlefield Guy felt a surge of mixed emotions, shaking his head between tears and laughter.
Those bastards were clearly worried his undercover assignment would be too boring; it seemed his stint as an officer wasn't going to be peaceful in the slightest.
Reaching out, he clapped the shoulder of the pale, trembling deputy decurion who stood speechless beside him, clearing his throat lightly.
"...You're the decurion now."
"Do a good job. Don't let me down."
Chapter 458