Roar of the Chimera!

The war had entered its fourth day. Brutal street fighting turned the avenue before the abandoned department store into a grim meat grinder, every inch of paving covered in sticky blood and mutilated corpses. The once-orderly frontline had been warped into a jagged sawtooth through relentless back-and-forth clashes, the ground plowed by artillery fire and aerial bombs scarred with shocking craters. Ironically, the Three-Year War that buried the Human Alliance had never touched this land, yet two centuries after that conflict had ended, it was undergoing a baptism of iron and fire. Hengchi's mind was filled with confusion. He still remembered what the boss had said: the Alliance's offensive was already a spent force, their soldiers terrified out of their wits by Delu's booming roar, and they would soon tuck their tails and run. The positions they had recaptured were the best proof. And yet— Was that really true? *Boom—!* The dense artillery fire started promptly on schedule, rolling over the street like crushing dark clouds, boom after boom pressing ever closer. Clusters of green heads crouched inside the concrete buildings along both sides of the street, rising and sinking in rhythm with the dust shaking loose around them. Hengchi wasn't afraid of the Alliance's bombardment. The noise was loud enough, sure, but wounding them through thick concrete walls was tough, and minor scrapes weren't worth paying attention to. In the end, both sides would have to fight it out face-to-face to decide the victor. Then there was nothing to fear. The shelling began on time, and ended just as punctually. The centurion crouching nearby shook off the cement debris covering his body, stood up, raised his weapon, and bellowed at the top of his lungs. "Chop them to pieces!" His chest heaved with the roar, like a beast howling at the heavens. "Ooooh!" Fired up by that brazen savagery, the mutant soldiers hollered as they scrambled to their feet, grabbed their weapons, and dispersed toward the outer barricades, ready to slaughter the Alliance soldiers. Hengchi followed right behind the fellow ahead of him. Almost the moment he stepped out from the concrete rubble, deafening battle cries surged forward alongside the popping crackle of gunfire. The street he was assigned to was one of the avenues leading to the abandoned department store, with a collapsed overpass lying squarely across the intersection. Wrecked cars served as natural cover; toss on a few sandbags and mount a machine gun, and you had a makeshift pillbox. The Church continuously funneled ammunition into the city. They didn't have to worry about logistics or supplies; all they had to do was stuff death down the human soldiers' throats— Swirling tracers buzzed across the street like flecks of snow whipped up by a blizzard. From within the impenetrable fog, Hengchi sensed something amiss. That fierce firepower was as intense as the first day's offensive. Wasn't the Alliance on the verge of collapse? Why had they... come back to life? He had the nagging impression that the people before them were the exact same crowd he had faced on day one. The only difference was that they seemed far more practiced than on the first day, no longer charging blindly into the line of fire. Back then, a single burst was enough to cut them down. Now, they had clearly grasped combat tactics—even if rudimentary, it still caused immense trouble for the mutants. *Da-da-da—!* The machine gun continuously spat tongues of flame. In the heavy fog where visibility was abysmal, hitting anything came down to luck. Hengchi hadn't managed to snag a machine gun, so he could only clutch a rifle picked up from who-knew-where and fire wildly outside the barricade. But he soon felt immensely grateful for being a beat too slow. Before his muzzle had even emptied two bursts of smoke, a searing flash exploded beside him with a loud *clang*. Flying shrapnel and scalding blood splattered across his face. He glanced sideways and saw that the fellow who had been raking the machine gun only had half a torso left twitching on the ground. Having seen so many corpses, he was numb to it. A bare-chested mutant swiftly seized the machine gun and continued pulling the trigger. Hengchi didn't mourn the brother he had shared a piss with; instead, a faint doubt crept into his heart. Did recapturing the street beneath his feet... truly prove that the Alliance was on its last legs? However, that flicker of confusion lasted less than half a minute before being shattered by a roar piercing through the thick fog. A steel-clad giant, marching with heavy, rapid strides across fragmented barricades, suddenly barged into the battlefield. His frame was as towering as a city wall, and the iron plating draped over him was as solid as tank armor. At the sight of him, fanaticism flared in the eyes of almost every mutant, and they let out excited roars. Hengchi was no exception! A Goliath! The mightiest warrior of the tribe! Creatures like this could never be produced through ordinary means. They couldn't master more than a few words of human speech their entire lives, but every single one that grew to adulthood was a named champion! They were born warriors! "Roar—!" A bellow leaked from the seams of his helmet as he charged, slamming his shoulder viciously into the nearest hunk of iron. The human soldier in an exoskeleton drew a hatchet to fight back, but against the brute's colossal bulk, the axe looked like a toothpick. Hengchi watched clearly as the axe struck the helmet with all its might, leaving only a negligible white mark on the bleak black steel. Then, the human soldier was sent flying by the Goliath's fluid tackle, crashing violently into a nearby concrete building. An exposed piece of rebar protruding from the wall punctured straight through his back, impaling him from front to back. The human soldier gripped the rebar with both hands and struggled for a few seconds before his head slumped and he moved no more. "Roar—!" The mutant Goliath threw his head back and bellowed. Scooping up a steel beam from the ground, he hurled it toward the next hunk of iron. The human soldiers were clearly startled by the behemoth, caught off guard for a moment by the rampaging giant. Crouched behind the barricade, Hengchi's blood surged with excitement, and he cheered alongside the other grunts. Spurred on by their roars, the Goliath grew bolder and fiercer, brandishing the several-meter-long steel bar in the dead center of the battlefield. In the blink of an eye, two more heavy exoskeletons were batted away, crashing into the concrete wreckage and lying unconscious. The Alliance soldiers immediately raised their rifles to focus fire on him, but the barrage of tracers looked like toothpicks before his immense frame. Aside from scratching streaks of bullet marks across the curved surface of his thick steel armor, the fire inflicted not a shred of substantive damage. Instead, it stoked the Goliath's ferocity, making the steel bar in his hands whirl with terrifying force. The already chaotic position was smashed into utter shambles. The leading human soldier seemed to be shouting something, but Hengchi couldn't understand it, assuming it was panicked screaming. What he didn't realize was that while the Alliance soldiers had been startled by the behemoth, they were far from panicked. Midnight Chicken Slayer, for instance, had encountered this creature before, as had many veterans of the Jungle Corps. They knew that while the monster was tough to deal with, it was by no means invincible. "Holy shit—not even the bolter can penetrate his armor?!" "Bro, you're within the arming distance! Back up and shoot!" "Too late! Switch to rifles!" "Fuck, this armor's too thick! It's not doing jack!" "Then whip out the launcher—" No sooner had the words left his mouth than the roar of an engine tore in from one side of the intersection. Midnight Chicken Slayer, about to pull out a rocket launcher, whipped his head toward the sound. The moment his gaze locked onto the vehicle's headlights, joy surged in his chest. A Chimera! It was the brothers from the Skeleton Corps! The roaring engine sounded like war drums as the vehicle's broad nose crashed onto the battlefield amid the rising and falling gunfire. Without a moment's hesitation, the armored vehicle's angular nose rammed violently into the giant mutant's pelvis. The Goliath felt as though a sledgehammer had slammed into his lower body. Howling in agony, his feet lifted off the ground, hurled backward by the massive chassis. Right then, the charging Chimera slammed on the brakes. Having lost his balance, the Goliath had no chance to steady himself, stumbling backward uncontrollably. The Chimera armored vehicle gave him no respite. Its 37mm rapid-fire autocannon locked dead onto his chest. And then— The black, abyss-like muzzle mercilessly spat thick, long tongues of flame! *Thump, thump, thump—!* The deafening cannon fire rolled like war drums. Tracers thick as pythons streamed from the muzzle in rapid succession, raining down upon his thumb-thick chest armor, each round eliciting an agonizing groan from the overburdened steel. Staggering back, the Goliath had no way to withstand the kinetic energy of the 37mm shells, slammed bodily into a shattered storefront window along the street. Shrapnel and sparks sprayed continuously out of the window frame, along with an occasional deflected ricochet. Flickering flames and dense smoke engulfed that mangled puddle of flesh and blood, snapping off the agonizing wails midway. Hengchi's eyes bulged, fixed on the spot where the Goliath had fallen. The excitement and bloodlust in his pupils had faded without him realizing it. All that remained was boundless dread. In merely an instant— A champion born into this world carrying death and glory, granted a name by the chieftain at birth, had been pulverized into paste by sparks spitting from an iron box. Soon, he saw the barrel trailing wisps of blue smoke slowly pivot, aiming straight toward the position where he stood. "Roar—!" As if venting the sheer terror in his chest, Hengchi unleashed a frantic, hoarse shriek. He squeezed the rifle trigger to the stop, trying to blow out the howling tempest with his puny sparks. The surrounding mutant soldiers did the same, unleashing a furious barrage against the iron hunk standing in the center of the battlefield, attempting to crush it under a storm of bullets. And yet— Against dozens of millimeters of effective armor, the bullets from small arms were pitifully weak, less effective than a full swing of an axe. Almost at the exact moment Hengchi's roar tore from his throat, blinding streaks of light thick as pythons lashed toward the mutants, bursting into dazzling flashes of fire across their hasty barricades. Sandbag fortifications were blown strewn across the ground; sandbag walls capable of stopping rifle bullets were like children's building blocks before the 37mm autocannon. Fortunately, there was no pain in that instant. Hengchi felt a flash before his eyes, followed by pitch blackness. All sensation plummeted into an endless abyss with a wet *splat*... *Thump, thump, thump—!* The booming autocannon continued to hammer away. It didn't stop until every barricade on the street was baptized by armor-piercing incendiary shells. As if that wasn't enough, the armored vehicle switched to high-explosive rounds, raking the gaps between buildings along both flanks. Though gunfire still echoed in the distance, the battle on this street had essentially drawn to a close with the arrival of this armored vehicle. Players of the Jungle Corps stepped out from cover one after another, cradling bolters as they pushed forward alongside the armored vehicle. They cut down mutant soldiers attempting to retreat with ammo crates, reclaiming the ground they had conceded to the mutants just yesterday. "Nice work!" Whistling at the silent Chimera, Piltover Paratrooper, clad in "Iron Wall" exoskeleton, gave a thrilled thumbs-up. Even though he wasn't the one firing, the overwhelming firepower was deeply satisfying to watch. Elven King Fugui hopped down from the rear of the armored vehicle, eyed the grimy, soot-stained brothers of the Jungle Corps, and bragged with a radiant grin. "How's that? Isn't our new gear badass?" Xiao Xiao Xiao Bookworm: "6666!" Model Prone Crawler: "Rolling in dough now, bro!" Elven King Fugui chuckled sheepishly and said with a laugh: "Mainly, our corps leader's game sold well." Seeing his brothers casting expectant glances at him, Brother Chicken, encased in his iron suit, shifted his gaze awkwardly and whistled as if oblivious. Make money? Not a chance. Be glad I can leech gear off NPCs for you guys! Elaina quipped with a trollish grin: "I suggest leaving that guy in Ideal City to move bricks while we handle the fighting." The armored vehicle's top hatch popped open, and Mole poked his head out, resting a hand on the turret rim and rolling his eyes in exasperation. "Fuck off. Without my command, would you even know where to drive?" These bastards! Whenever the wind blew in their favor, they'd brag and yell that command was useless! Whenever they hit a snag, they'd curse the commander for being useless dead weight! Being a corps leader was exhausting! Elven King Fugui grinned cheekily and pulled the rug out from under him. "Aiya, not to boast, but it's not like we're fighting the Legion. Beating up these barbarians who don't even know how to build proper cover—just charge their faces and spray 'em down, right?" Several other players chimed in with jeers and jokes: "Exactly!" "Who needs damn tactics for this? Just go balls to the wall!" "You dare say that stomp on the gas pedal wasn't wild as hell?" Mole gave a dry cough, feeling a bit sheepish. Truth be told, he had been a bit wild too. For instance, there had been no need to charge so far forward just now; they could have picked off targets from a distance. Whatever! He had gotten his swagger on. Having fun was all that mattered! Pressing the comm button on his helmet, Mole firmly pretended not to hear their teasing, cleared his throat, and barked into the channel: "All squads, attention. Prepare to advance toward the 'former refugee resettlement zone' coordinates alongside the infantry... The old site of Singularity City is over there. Watch out for mutants lurking in the buildings." Replies promptly echoed through the channel: "Copy that!" A satisfied look appeared on Mole's face. It seemed the Chimera armored vehicles were performing well across all fronts, sparing him any embarrassment before the other corps. Yet that satisfied expression hadn't lasted more than a few seconds before an ill-timed voice crackled over the comms: "...Chimera-3 here! We've run into trouble pushing toward the objective! Mutant anti-vehicle fire knocked out our engine, and we're stalled in the middle of the road—damn it, sniper! Scatter! Spread out to both sides of the street! Fuck... these bastards are fighting dirty!" The squad leader barked orders to his teammates while reporting the situation over the channel. Even without his rushed tone, the loud clatter and ringing ricochets made the fierce firefight unmistakable. A sniper? In fog this thick? What the fuck, wallhacks?! Mole froze for a second, then snapped to attention and demanded: "Report your position!" Quickly verifying his position on the map while peering through the observation slit, the squad leader spoke at breakneck speed: "Six hundred meters southwest of the department store, near a subway station and an unmarked office building... I've marked it on the map!" Mole: "What about the sniper's position?" Squad Leader: "Going by the gunshots, likely to our southwest, away from the firefight... Exact spot uncertain! Probably in the tallest building, or maybe the one adjacent." "Circle the approximate area!" "...Updated on the map!" "Copy that! We're on our way!" Ending the transmission, Mole forwarded the sniper coordinates to headquarters, then pounded his fist on the turret. "Brothers are in trouble. We're heading over to bail them out... Dammit, I told those idiots to stay tucked inside the hull, but they just had to perch on the back to show off!" Midnight Chicken Slayer strode over, bolter slung over his shoulder. "Need our help?" Mole took one look at his exaggerated setup and shook his head like a rattle. "No need, no need. You guys keep pushing. Once we clear the trouble over there, we'll loop back to support you!" Taking this guy along meant offloading at least two or three infantrymen. That iron suit looked fierce, but its lack of mobility was a major liability. Midnight Chicken Slayer didn't take offense, grinning broadly. "Okey-doke. Good luck." Watching the Chimera armored vehicle speed toward the other side of the intersection, he waved to his brothers holding the captured zone. "Keep moving forward!" ... Before noon had even arrived, the fighting between the Alliance and Tribe Qi had reached a fever pitch. With Chimera armored vehicles rolling into the fight, the grueling stalemate devolved into a one-sided slaughter. The hardened fighters of the Skeleton Corps were mostly veterans who had faced the Legion's armored units head-on in the desert. While urban warfare was a first for them, gunning down targets came second nature. In a matter of hours, Tribe Qi lost every single position they had wrested from the Alliance the day before, their casualties exceeding the combined total of the previous three days. Delu had gone blood-crazed like a desperate gambler, still shouting at his remaining troops to charge the Alliance positions. Yet even an outsider could see clearly that his defeat was merely a matter of time. Gahn had already written off that idiot and was setting up defenses around the research institute's district. Under optimistic estimates, he might hold out for a week. If the Alliance escalated the intensity of their assault, however, it was hard to say whether he would abandon the institute or even surrender the entirety of Jinhe City to retreat southward. After all, the Church of the Torch had no means to rein in these green-skinned brutes. If they had, they would have done so long ago... On the southwest side of the battlefield, inside an abandoned office building, an old man wearing an exoskeleton quietly watched the conflict. At eighty years old, an age by which the vast majority on this wasteland were already six feet under, his face bore only a few extra wrinkles. His name was Arzu. He was an Apostle, and like Yule, leaned toward the technical side. The difference was that his faith was far firmer than that of old popsicles from the Era of Prosperity like Yule; almost nothing could shake his convictions. Had he not distrusted machines, he would have long uploaded his consciousness to the Sanctuary to become an honorable Pioneer. In fact, to this day, he still placed no faith in the Sanctuary—a castle in the air built upon flawed technology. Luo Qian was prime proof. Just when the Church was poised to complete the final puzzle piece on this soil, that fellow had dropped the ball and vanished. The Holy Son had dispatched him here to investigate the cause of Luo Qian's disappearance and to put the final puzzle piece into place. Though he had no hard evidence, from the moment he set foot on this soil, he had caught the scent of betrayal. The man's chip was clearly still active. Yet it had become something else. He could conceive of no explanation other than betrayal. Ethereal, intangible constructs were the least trustworthy; the human brain remained the world's most perfect sanctuary. Lying prone not far beside him, a crew-cut man pulled the trigger of a sniper rifle, coldly murmuring the number "two." The cybernetic eye pressed against the scope contracted slightly. In this thick fog where visibility fell below twenty meters, he appeared capable of seeing every subtle movement on the battlefield. Another man holding binoculars gazed out at the raging firefight in the distance and clicked his tongue softly. "...The Alliance really went all out this time. Thirty armored vehicles in total—that's an entire battalion's worth of gear." Scraping together so much armor was no easy feat on the wasteland. Yet recalling that the Alliance had recently inherited the industrial legacy of Boulder City, the man with binoculars quickly found it plausible. His name was Chi Mo, an executioner of the Tribunal. He belonged to the same detachment as Mountain Falcon, who had previously gone missing on a mission, and was assigned to assist Arzu's operation. Unlike Mountain Falcon, however, he disliked lone-wolf operations and usually brought his partner along. The man prone by his feet was that partner, Tang He. During a prior operation, the unlucky fellow had been shot in the eye by a sniper-toting wasteland wanderer, forcing him to replace half his brain and his left eye with cybernetics. Perhaps due to surgical aftereffects, he now muttered about killing every single day, feeling thoroughly wretched if he went a day without taking a life. No one knew what the world looked like through his eyes, but fortunately the parish had plenty of "pastures" where he could run wild. The livestock raised there couldn't fight back; picking a couple out for him to slaughter kept him placated. Because his mind was warped, Tang He rarely responded to Chi Mo unless the topic was killing, so Chi Mo had spent most of the journey conversing with the elderly Apostle beside him. Gazing at the distant battlefield for a while, Arzu spoke in a measured tone: "I get the feeling it's not just the Alliance keeping an eye on us." Chi Mo gave a short laugh. "Oh? How can you tell?" Arzu said slowly: "The Alliance's prominent strength lies in biotechnology. For someone to suppress our technicians in electronic warfare, they must have experts backing them." Chi Mo frowned slightly. "You mean Enterprise?" That seemed plausible. Yesterday, he had attempted to launch an electronic warfare strike against the comms system of the Heart of Steel, only to be detected the moment he made a move. He had felt at least two distinct forces dogpiling and pummeling him, giving him a cold sweat and prompting him to sever the connection immediately. His partner's remaining brain had nearly been fried. Arzu nodded slowly, then shook his head. "I'm afraid it's not just Enterprise. There might even be people from the Academy." Chi Mo frowned slightly. The Academy... If it were only Enterprise, it wouldn't cause him such a headache. Those people had always been pragmatic opportunists. Unless facing a behemoth like the Legion, the Council would rarely commit major strength from the outset. By the time they took things seriously, the Holy Fire would have already engulfed multiple provinces, leaving nothing to fear from them. Add the Academy into the mix, however, and the equation changed. Those technicians were not particularly formidable in direct combat; in fact, they were hardly cut out for fighting at all. Conversely, their mastery in technology was terrifyingly advanced, and their tendrils reached into every corner of the wasteland. Worst of all, few ever knew what they were planning or what motivated their actions. To draw a vivid analogy: compared to visible blades and spears, he feared incomprehensible sorcery far more. Scratching the back of his head, Chi Mo let out a vexed sigh. "This is a mess... Small fry like us—how on earth did we warrant a joint crusade by both the Academy and Enterprise?" Arzu chuckled with a dry, humorless smirk, his dignified countenance unchanged. "It makes no difference to me. Sooner or later, those parasitic vermin will all perish under our heels." With that, he turned and walked toward the stairwell. Watching him leave, Chi Mo called out: "Where are you going?" An evasive reply drifted back from the distance: "I advise you not to underestimate them." Chi Mo paused, bewildered. What did he mean by "don't underestimate them"? Did "them" refer to the Academy and Enterprise? For the life of him, he couldn't figure out when he had ever underestimated those guys... Just as the thought crossed his mind, a low buzzing gradually carried over from the distance. At first, it sounded like the whine of a mosquito, but it quickly grew heavier, clearer, and unmistakably resembled the roar of propellers— To be precise, it didn't just resemble it. It was! Lying on the floor, Tang He's expression suddenly shifted. Pulling his eye away from the scope, he glanced hurriedly skyward and let out a curse: "Fuck..." Moments later, Chi Mo's face paled as well. Behind the dense layers of fog, black crosses swept low across the sky, releasing clusters of pitch-black specks. His buddy had only taken two cheap sniper shots... Did they really have to call in a fucking bomber squadron?!