A bombing formation of twelve Dragonfly transport planes swept over the bombing zone marked on the map.
As usual, the experienced Pigmen brothers served as flight leaders, piloting the lead plane at the head of the formation while the other eleven wingmen kept pace beside them.
Plugging parameters such as altitude, airspeed, angle of approach, and wind speed into the formula gave an estimated release distance. The lead plane signaled the wingmen, the cargo doors opened, and the bombardiers slid the rail-mounted bombs down one after another.
Using transport aircraft as bombers was absurd in every sense of the word, but what they lacked in precision could be made up for in sheer volume.
Aviation bombs rained down like dumplings over the marked urban district. Soon, bursts of orange-red fire tore through the space between abandoned roads and skyscrapers.
Most high-rises left behind from the Era of Prosperity were remarkably sturdy.
Even after two centuries of weathering, most buildings kept their main structural frames intact after a single pass of carpet bombing.
Only one hundred-meter skyscraper, likely having taken a direct hit to its load-bearing structure from an aerial bomb, began tilting slowly to the north from a mid-level floor.
Watching the apocalyptic spectacle and the rolling dust cloud that blew away the smog to rise hundreds of meters into the air, Brother Ice and Fire clicked his tongue by the cabin porthole.
"Holy crap... is all that really necessary just to deal with a single sniper?"
Even though real militaries dealt with snipers that way too, they usually lobbed a guided missile or dropped a few grenade rounds.
Rarely did anyone splurge like this, sending an entire bomber squadron just for one sniper.
It felt a bit like using a cannon to swat a mosquito.
Not Professional Anti-Mantou snorted with a laugh and teased over the comm channel.
"Use your brain for once. Would mutants use sniper rifles to take potshots? Especially in fog this thick?"
Brother Ice and Fire slapped his forehead.
"Hiss... put it that way, and I get it."
He had instinctively compared it to reality. No real-world force would be so reckless, but after all, this was a game.
Those sneaks lurking nearby and playing dirty tricks were clearly the little rats of the Church of the Torch. No matter what insidious schemes they were cooking up, swatting them with a heavy hand was never wrong.
The only thing that surprised him was that the NPCs' minds were just as sharp.
Chatter from players aboard the other aircraft poured into the comm channel.
"The fog's way too thick. Can't see a damn thing on the ground."
"Think that guy got blown to pieces?"
"We'll have to ask the boys on the ground to keep their eyes peeled!" Not Professional Anti-Mantou chuckled, tilted the control stick, and led the bomber formation back toward the airfield.
After a pause, he added,
"We'd better figure out how we're going to land first."
Landing in foggy weather was no trouble for him, but the rookies were another story.
Hopefully they wouldn't crash more than a couple.
And hopefully the ground crew wouldn't curse them out...
***
A hundred-meter-tall skyscraper snapped at the waist, looking like a sliced block of tofu from the sky.
From the ground, however, it loomed like a squarish mountain.
Even several hundred meters from the war zone, the blasted sand and pebbles still rained over the heads of both combatants.
The violent shockwaves temporarily blew apart the spore clouds floating in the air.
Mutant soldiers stared with wide, rounded eyes, their mouths agape toward the collapsing skyscraper, completely oblivious to the mouths full of ash they had swallowed.
What in the world had just happened?!
The players reacted the same way. For a moment, they even stopped shooting, gazing at the breathtaking spectacle and blurting out curses.
"...Holy shit, if this were rendered as a cutscene, it'd be godly!"
"666!"
"Cutscene your ass!" Shuke, pilot of the helicopter, grumbled with mixed laughter and exasperation as he reloaded his machine gun. "Worry about surviving this first!"
Beta, who drove the toy car, lay right beside him.
That guy had probably figured the thick fog gave him cover and tried dashing out to show off his repair skills on the vehicle, only to get his head blown clean off with a single crack of gunfire.
Shuke had hurriedly dragged the corpse back, but the brain was already scrambled. Beta was probably sitting dumbfounded at home right now, wondering what had hit him.
The Chimera armored vehicle remained stranded in the middle of the road, continuously laying down suppressive fire toward the mutant positions.
However, the mutants had grown smart. Instead of confronting them head-on, they slipped into the alleys lining both sides of the street, infiltrating and flanking them.
"Why didn't those flyboys drop a bomb on our spot too?" Xiaren Zhuxin wiped the dirt from his face and cursed.
Shuke rolled his eyes.
"Drop a bomb here so you can go flame them on the forums?"
Squatting on the other side of the street were brothers from the Death Corps. Hearing their banter, one of them joked with a grin,
"Just remember to tell Brother Mosquito to turn off friendly fire before dropping bombs!"
"Hahaha!"
"Does this game even have that setting?"
Though trapped in a tight alley with nowhere to advance or retreat, the players holding the line showed no trace of panic.
Since the bombers had taken out the distant sniper, command was clearly tracking their situation.
More reinforcements were on the way.
All they needed to do was hold out until relief arrived.
The brief respite shattered with a crack of gunfire.
Both sides in the street fight resumed firing, tracers darting wildly through the narrow corridor.
Those green-skinned brutes weren't completely stupid. Having finally disabled an iron box that spat fire, they were unwilling to let it off easily.
A century that had been routed from another frontline was quickly redeployed here, a mob of howling mutants charging fiercely toward the stranded vehicle.
If they could rip open a breach in the Alliance's offensive, they could still salvage this crumbling defensive line.
However, standing in their path was more than just a broken-down Chimera; an augmented century of the Death Corps stood alongside it.
While their gear wasn't as flashy as some other corps and their genetic sequence levels weren't outstanding, every single one of them was a hardened badass who didn't fear death.
More importantly, they were masters of urban combat!
Armed with shotguns or submachine guns—some even brandishing bolt-action rifles with fixed bayonets—they engaged the mutant soldiers in close-quarters, brutal melee within the alley.
A club-wielding mutant had just smashed some unlucky fellow's skull in, but before it could even savor the taste, a player leveling a shotgun blew its cranium clean off.
Other players wrestled with mutants and simply detonated the explosives on their vests, both turning into a shower of blood in an instant.
Even mutants, used to barbaric lives of drinking blood and eating raw meat, showed a flash of horror at such reckless savagery.
These people were lunatics!
The dozen-meter-long alley was littered with severed limbs and corpses. Viscous blood and entrails turned the floor into a pitch-black swamp, yet the gunfire showed no signs of slowing down.
Just as the battle reached a fever pitch, brisk, rhythmic cannon fire suddenly echoed from the other end of the street.
*Bang, bang, bang—!*
Thick streaks of electric fire surged into the mutants rushing out of the alley mouth, instantly shredding their bulging muscles into torn clouds of blood.
"Roar—!"
A mutant, eyes bloodshot with rage, roared as it hurled an ignited satchel charge toward the disabled armored vehicle.
The bulging charge was the size of a backpack, coated in black tar so it would stick to armored plates.
"Holy shit!"
Seeing this, Shuke cursed, tossed aside his machine gun without hesitation, and lunged forward. Ripping the satchel charge off the armor plating, he threw himself to the ground.
Almost the instant he hit the dirt, the explosive flash tore him into pieces, shrapnel clattering violently against the hull of the armored vehicle.
Had that detonated flush against the armor, even a heavy tank would likely have been wrecked, let alone a lightly armored APC.
The mutant's eyes nearly popped out of its head, clearly stunned that within just three short seconds, the doomed iron box had been saved.
Yet there was no time left for its shock.
The moment the satchel charge blew, a burst of armor-piercing incendiary rounds swept in with a *thump-thump-thump*, instantly mincing it into ground meat.
"Shuke—!!!"
Watching Shuke blasted into nothingness, Xiaren Zhuxin let out an agonized howl. Hugging his assault rifle, he dashed to the mouth of the alley and emptied his magazine—only to hit empty air.
Seeing another armored vehicle rolling up, the mutants realized their final opportunity was gone.
The mutant leader let out a howl, and the lackeys firing from cover tossed out harsh curses before retreating behind the barricades.
Aside from a few crazed stragglers still fighting in a fury, most of the green-skinned brutes pulled back toward the southern defensive line.
Seeing the mutants withdraw, Brother Mole nudged his driver with a boot, having him pull their ride up in front of the disabled Chimera, firing off two bursts after the retreating mutant troops.
The rear hatch swung open, and Elven King Fugui, Elaina, and their squad hopped out, fanning out on both flanks of the armored vehicle behind cover with weapons raised.
One player skilled in mechanical repairs grabbed a toolbox and hurried over to the disabled Chimera.
Pushing aside the corpse of the engineer whose head had been popped, he cracked open the hood with his tools and immediately went to work with wrenches and screwdrivers.
Poking his upper body out of the turret, Brother Mole glanced up at the bombed-out district in the distance and clicked his tongue.
Then he looked toward the player repairing the vehicle and shouted,
"How is it? Can you fix it?"
Without turning his head, the busy player called back,
"Engine casing has a hole punched right through it... I'll try. Getting it to move should be fine, but power output will probably be cut in half."
"Then I'll leave it to you. Just make sure it can limp back to base."
"Roger that!"
The mechanic held up his wrench in acknowledgment. Just as Brother Mole was about to duck back into the vehicle, In Debt God from the Death Corps walked over carrying a rifle.
Before he could speak, Elven King Fugui's eyes widened like he had spotted a rare beast, and he said with a grin,
"Yo, Dayan?! What are you doing here?"
Missing the teasing undertone, In Debt God chuckled and bragged,
"Tch, I got here four days ago, alright!"
Elaina looked over with a comical smirk.
"I thought you'd gone MIA."
"Screw off, you're the one who's MIA! Your whole family's MIA!"
Catching the smirk instantly, In Debt God rolled his eyes in annoyance, then called up to Brother Mole sitting on the turret enjoying the show.
"Brother, we just picked up a new mission, but we're short on bodies. Got some time to lend a hand?"
Thinking that Chicken probably didn't need him anyway and was likely having a blast going completely berserk, Brother Mole looked at him with keen interest.
"What kind of mission?"
"Reinforcing the brothers in the Burning Corps."
"Those freaks need backup?"
"That's what the mission brief says. They ran into some trouble in the bombing zone... Currently out of contact. Headquarters suspects the Church of the Torch is behind it."
Looks like that bombing raid hit nothing after all.
Brother Mole rubbed his chin.
"Communications jamming?"
In Debt God: "Probably."
"Alright, I'll call a few folks over."
Tapping his earpiece, Brother Mole studied the map on his VM and issued calm orders.
"Squads Two and Four, heads up: new mission. Assemble immediately at the waypoint on the map. Also, signal interference detected in the target area. Initiate backup comms protocol!"
The so-called backup comms protocol meant having one infantryman remain offline as a human radio, relaying frontline intel through group chats.
Two crisp acknowledgments promptly came over the comms channel.
"Copy!"
Closing the channel, Brother Mole wasted no time. Signaling Dayan to follow, he called out to the brothers in the street.
"Hold the fort here for a bit. Me and the Death Corps boys are checking out the adjacent sector, then we'll be right back."
Rifle braced, eyes glued to the empty street ahead, Elven King Fugui shouted back over his shoulder toward the Chimera.
"Okey-dokey!"
***
At the same time.
In the urban district six hundred meters west of the frontline, the street visited by the bombers was a scene of utter devastation: charred bomb craters, fractured walls, and flickering tongues of fire licking twisted rebar and concrete.
A few mangled corpses were plastered across the asphalt. Judging from their silhouettes, they were probably mutated organisms that had wandered into the neighborhood and been caught in the blasts, leaving behind only these scraps.
Hardly any organic life exposed outside of cover had survived.
Kicking open a damaged metal door, Chi Mo emerged from the ruins with a dark face. He greedily drew in a breath of fresh air, only to be choked by the pungent stench of gunpowder, coughing violently.
"Damn that bastard!"
Lucky for him, he had reacted fast enough, quickly retreating into a sturdy stairwell with his partner; otherwise, he'd have been killed.
The thought filled him with an urge to curse that old fogey out. The man spoke in half-sentences and cared only about saving his own skin.
In any case, this place was no longer safe. He had to pull back to secure ground first...
The moment his right foot stepped onto the street, a sharp premonition struck him. On reflex, Chi Mo ducked into a roll, throwing himself behind a slab of concrete debris by the roadside.
Almost the instant he took cover, an arrow slammed into the ground where he had just stood.
Spotting the arrow, Chi Mo sneered disdainfully. Yet before his mockery could linger for even half a second, the expression froze on his face.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a faint red glow!
"Fuck—"
With no time to dodge, he heard a sharp *beep*, and the arrow detonated in a ball of fire. The raging shockwave sprayed steel ball bearings in every direction.
The surging blast slammed into his chest armor. Taking the blow head-on, Chi Mo felt his internal organs shudder.
Even with his exoskeleton absorbing the brunt, he suffered minor injuries.
With no time to tend to the shrapnel lacerations, he yanked a smoke grenade and popped it at his feet, staggering toward sturdier cover.
Clicking the comm button on his helmet, he roared into the channel,
"Tang He! Find that archer for me! Tang He?"
Nothing answered across the channel.
Chi Mo's face stiffened. Realizing that Arzu had to be behind this, he cursed under his breath.
"That dog-fucking old bastard..."
The old man was probably planning to "release the hounds."
Those creatures with underdeveloped brains couldn't tell friend from foe; they would blindly cram anything that moved into their maws.
He had to get out of here immediately!
On the other side, watching the figure dodge the lethal shot, surprise flickered across Fang Chang's face, though it was nothing more than surprise.
Trying to run?
"Heh, let's see where you can go!"
The moment the bombing concluded, he, Lao Bai, and a total of twenty players had arrived by helicopter to sweep the zone.
Now that he had spotted the target, there was no way he would let the guy slip away.
"Lao Bai... target right ahead of me, confirmed Church of the Torch apostle. Coordinates marked on map. Lao Bai?"
The comm channel yielded only static.
Fang Chang's expression sharpened slightly.
Signal jamming?
"Damn it!"
Cursing under his breath, he drew another explosive arrow, nocked it onto his Daybreak compound bow, and stayed low as he pressed toward the target's cover.
Nearby teammates must have heard the gunfire and were likely converging on the area.
He had to pin the apostle down before the bastard could escape!
Right then, an ear-splitting roar tore through the thick fog, followed by the clatter of automatic gunfire from a nearby street.
Fang Chang instinctively halted, snapping his gaze toward the noise. His pupils contracted to pinpricks.
A bloated giant stood in the middle of the street. Its right arm was a bundle of writhing tentacles as thick as pythons, while its left arm was a massive hand forged of steel.
The meat on its torso resembled clusters of maggots, unconsciously squirming and swelling, pulsating with an eerie energy within the grayish-green fog.
Swinging two fists the size of iron cauldrons, Killing Dagger drove a ferocious punch into its chest, the exhaust pipes on his shoulder blades spitting nitrogen-boosted afterburners.
Yet that blow—destructive enough to flip an armored vehicle—only sent ripples through the maggot-ridden mountain of flesh.
The bloated giant let out a muffled wail, yet it didn't budge an inch.
Vaguely, Fang Chang heard Killing Dagger's bewildered screech.
"What the fuck?! What kind of monster is this—"
Before he could finish, a tentacle whipped across his chest like lightning, swatting him away like a baseball. He crashed heavily into the ground, knocked unconscious.
Fang Chang stared unblinkingly at the beast, swallowing hard.
"A 'Butcher'...?"
No—
This monstrosity was even more grotesque than the mutant slime mold fruiting body back in Qingquan City!
Not only was it several times larger, but its destructive power was clearly leagues higher! It bore a closer resemblance to the evolved organism from the previous Tide.
Seeing the mountain of flesh lumbering toward Killing Dagger, Fang Chang knew he couldn't wait any longer. Without hesitation, he loosed an arrow straight at the monster's face.
A burst of fire detonated against the creature's face, blasting its head to pieces and sending them flying.
Fang Chang blinked in surprise.
His explosive arrow carried only several dozen grams of charge, barely more than an ordinary fragmentation grenade.
Since when was it that powerful?
Just as he suspected, things were far from that simple.
The headless monster acted completely unfazed, its massive frame not even wobbling.
Then, the writhing chunks of meat surged toward the mountain's shoulders like earthworms crawling under some autonomous will.
In less than ten seconds, an abstract head sprouted anew on the bare shoulders. Looking closely at the blasted debris, it wasn't bone fragments at all, but maggot-like clumps of flesh.
Some had been blown apart, but most remained alive.
Cast aside, they squirmed stubbornly with their ruined bodies, crawling back toward the mountain of flesh, eager to rejoin the mass.
Watching this absurd spectacle, Fang Chang's eyes went wide.
What kind of ridiculous black tech was this?!
And where had this thing come from?!
What gave him goosebumps most of all was—
Those hollow eyes turned toward him.
Even across dozens of meters, even through the dense grayish-green fog, Fang Chang could clearly sense that he had drawn the boss's aggro.
The undulating tentacles swayed like seaweed drifting in shallow water, but he had already seen how fast they moved.
Killing Dagger had taken a single hit and hadn't gotten back up since!
"Another boss fight, huh..."
Battle intent ignited in Fang Chang's eyes. Drawing another arrow with an orange label from his quiver, he nocked it onto the string of his mechanical compound bow.
It was an incendiary arrow packed with solidified hydrogen and high-grade kerosene, capable of effortlessly blanketing meters of ground in flames.
If explosives didn't work—
Then burn it to ash!
***
In a building several hundred meters away from the bombing zone, Arzu, having relocated, gazed impassively at the chaotic district. A cold sneer curled at the corner of his mouth.
He never expected a mere servant to stop the Alliance's elite forces. Without a doubt, those troops belonged to the Burning Corps.
However, stirring up enough chaos to help that idiot from the Tribunal escape was child's play.
Much as he disliked those two bungling fools, if they weren't killed in the bombing and ended up captured alive, it would still be a nuisance for him.
Hopefully, they would take a sliver of a lesson from this defeat and rein in that rampant overconfidence.
Their enemy was far from easy to handle, completely unlike those dimwitted wastelanders.
That Shelter 404, an installation even he had never heard of, might well prove more dangerous than Enterprise or the Academy.
The fools in the Tribunal should have realized this a year ago.
Just then, footsteps came from behind him.
A stooped, heavily wrinkled old man walked up and halted behind him.
The elder had dark green skin and wore a ceremonial robe patterned with strange designs.
One look made it clear he was a mutant.
Yet from looks alone, no one could guess how long he had lived.
Gazing at Arzu's back, he sighed softly and lowered his gaze.
"The Alliance forces seem endless for some reason, and our tribe has suffered grievous casualties. At this rate, I fear we will lose this war."
Arzu looked back at the aging mutant, staring into those clouded eyes, and spoke suddenly.
"Gomo."
"What is it?"
"Do you wish to restore the glory of Singularity City?"
His voice carried a seductive edge.
Gomo frowned slightly, then smoothed his brow and whispered,
"I dream of it."
"Then persuade your child for me."
Arzu pulled his gaze away from the old mutant's face and looked back out toward the fog-draped district, narrowing his eyes slightly as he continued,
"Have him hold out a little longer."
"Soon, the Holy Son will bestow upon him power to rival the gods."
Chapter 602