Fierce Battle on Sandbar Island!

Pale blue plumes sliced through the silent night sky as two enormous transport aircraft appeared over Sandbar Island. This island was the second-largest natural island in the Southern Sea, famed for its vast golden-sand beaches. Roughly seventy thousand people lived across its four hundred square kilometers—comparable in reality to about half the area of Singapore with just over one percent of its population. Unlike the narrow, crowded artificial island of Ring Island, it bore a resemblance to North Island and Anle Island, still preserving plenty of natural landscapes with a tropical flair. Most of the island's residents lived on the relatively higher southern side, where modern two- and three-story buildings stood neatly spaced along either side of the ring road. Since there was no airfield on the island, the Burning Corps had to land on the waters off its perimeter. Plasma plumes blasting from their engines skimmed the surface of the sea, sending wisps of white steam curling off the scorched spray. The cargo bay doors dropped open, and a steel landing craft slid along rails to the hatchway. Aboard, twelve exoskeleton-clad players stood ready for combat. Mounted prominently at the craft's bow were a 12 mm machine gun and a coaxial 60 mm grenade launcher. The former was primarily intended to handle light surface targets, while the latter was purpose-built for soft underwater targets like combat divers. Equipped with pressure sensors, the 60 mm underwater grenades utilized metallic hydrogen charges, detonating with extreme explosive velocity once near the target and using shockwaves to eliminate nearby threats. This landing craft was primarily designed for amphibious landings on North Island and Haiya Province, so in addition to underwater rounds, its 60 mm launcher could also fire general-purpose fragmentation grenades to suppress ground targets. Although Goblin Tech's chairman-cum-CEO-cum-factory-director was obsessed with hawking scrap on the northern front, Goblin Tech's core business clearly hadn't fallen by the wayside. As they drew near the target zone, the player in the cockpit shouted over the comm channel: "...Approaching target! One minute to prep!" "Thirty seconds." "Ten seconds!" "...Drop!" With a crisp clack, the securing cables released, and both Overlord transport aircraft dropped the landing craft hanging at their hatches at the same moment. Then, like dumplings sliding into boiling water, the craft dropped one after another. In the blink of an eye, twenty fast boats, armed to the teeth, bobbed atop the churning sea. The flotilla split into two groups, speeding toward the northern and southern sides of Sandbar Island. Meanwhile, on the northern side of the island, disarmed Sandbar Island soldiers were digging beachhead fortifications alongside a group of exoskeleton-clad guards. Half an hour earlier, they had received an early warning from Anle Island. A destroyer and an amphibious assault ship were bearing down from the direction of North Island. Judging by their menacing posture, they certainly weren't coming to negotiate—and those riding aboard the assault ship were likely none other than mutants. Word was that down south in distant Jinchuan Province, getting captured by mutants was no joke; men and women alike were devoured. Devoured in different ways, no less. So even though they had been on opposing sides not long before, they now had no choice but to stand together on the same battle line for the sake of their friends and families. Seeing a straight line of landing craft heading right for them in the distance, a flicker of panic involuntarily crept into everyone's eyes. Soon, however, someone spotted the signal lamps flashing on the craft. "It's Alliance reinforcements!" delight showed on a soldier's face. Beside him, the guards nearby felt the same way, expressions of relief spreading across their faces once they confirmed the flashing frequency of the signal lamps. Ten landing craft drove straight onto the beach. Players in exoskeletons leaped out one by one, while two Strength-type players stayed behind to haul the beached craft fully onto dry land. The steel plates on both sides of the craft were over 15 mm thick. Layered together, they reached 30 mm—thick enough to withstand even heavy machine gun fire. Combined with the mounted weaponry on the craft, disconnecting the battery turned each into an outstanding fortified bunker. On top of that, the craft carried ammo resupplies and collapsible bags for sand and earthworks. Stepping onto the beach, Fang Chang walked straight up to the group of armed men, cast an eye over them, and gave a brief introduction. "Fang Chang, Burning Corps. Who's in charge here?" "Me." A man wearing a military-issue exoskeleton stepped forward. Slung at his waist was a standard-issue Federation assault rifle, though the ballistic vest beneath his exoskeleton was police issue. "Dumen, Chief of the Sandbar Island Guard Bureau, and... er, Commander of the new Sandbar Island authority's army." Probably having acquired the gear only recently, he clearly hadn't gotten fully used to handling military-grade exoskeletons. Despite the serious occasion, Fang Chang's lips couldn't help twitching when he heard the word "commander." There were only about two hundred men standing here, and counting those absent, maybe four or five hundred at most. Put them on the northern front, and at best they'd scrape together half a cohort—scarcely enough to fill two caves. Then again, it all depended on who they were compared to. If these four or five hundred fought Enterprise's mountain battalion or a Legion cohort, they'd almost certainly get wrecked. But put them up against an expeditionary force from the Xilan Empire, and they'd probably have no trouble chasing around a tenthousander legion. Of course, it would be another story against the Gray Wolf Army or the two warlords on the border of Golden Gallon Port. Dumen himself seemed to feel a bit embarrassed. He gave a dry cough and voluntarily relinquished command. "I'll be blunt: we don't get many chances to fight here, our drills are just going through the motions, and defense is mostly the Navy's job... For command, we'll have to rely on veterans like you. Just tell us whatever you need us to do." "A wise choice." Wasting no time, Fang Chang tossed a tablet into his hands. On the tablet was an operational plan. For the two courses of action Zhalas might take, the Alliance Army General Staff had already drawn up contingency plans. Dumen took it, glanced over the screen, and astonishment instantly washed over his face. "This is... an operational plan? You anticipated today's events?" Displayed on the tablet was not just a map of Sandbar Island, but positions deployed across each sector, attached forces, and so on. This didn't look like work thrown together in two hours; with this level of detail, it had taken at least two or three days to prepare. Looking at his astonished ally, Fang Chang offered a faint smile. "We make a habit of war-gaming contingencies that haven't happened yet, turning them into emergency plans to submit to the General Staff, and finalizing them into action drafts for the Administrator's signature. Once the scenario we envisioned unfolds, the draft takes effect immediately. Our units act right away while filing routine reports, rather than waiting for the Administrator to reply before deciding on the next step." This was fairly standard procedure for them. As for unexpected situations—such as the Xilan Empire's "lost soldiers"—he would handle them according to the relevant clauses in the Player's Handbook and the Alliance Constitution, deciding for himself whether to return fire and how far to take the retaliation before letting up. Sandbar Island, teetering between both sides, had been a powder keg ever since the Federation split. Aside from the island's residents who had turned a blind eye, probably even the armchair keyboard warriors on Ideal City's Endpoint Cloud could see it coming. Not only had they drafted defense plans, but Zhalas had likely factored in the possibility of the Alliance stepping in long ago, preparing contingency plans of his own. Currently, two Thunder fighter jets were sweeping north, testing the enemy destroyer's firepower while scouting for potential ambushes suspected by the Southern Sea Alliance Navy. Having read the entire battle plan from start to finish, Dumen immediately sprang into action with his men. Meanwhile, on the southern side of Sandbar Island, the company led by Lao Bai had also landed. However, because the southern side was dotted with numerous civilian residences, they didn't run their landing craft straight onto the beach, opting instead to disembark directly at the docks. Just like Fang Chang, Lao Bai briefed the guards shoring up defenses along the southern shore on the operational plan once ashore. Watching the Alliance soldiers take over defense duties, the southern guards looked at each other in bewildered silence. "...Seems like there's nothing left for us to do?" A bearded guard stubbed out his cigarette butt, tucked it into the trash pouch in his pocket, and stared blankly at the soldiers busy fortifying the positions. He couldn't shake an odd impression: compared to these guys, he and his well-equipped comrades looked more like civilians. Directing the operations, Lao Bai happened to overhear and turned to him with a grin. "What kind of talk is that? There's still plenty for you to do. Don't go dumping everything onto our shoulders." Pausing, Lao Bai continued: "Take your families to take shelter now. Remember, stay away from the coastline. In two hours, we'll airdrop supplies into the center of the island to help you set up a temporary camp. Once everything's safe, we'll let you know when to head home." The guard straightened up immediately and offered a rather clumsy Alliance salute. "Yes, sir!" Amused by his awkward gesture, Lao Bai chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder. "That's the spirit! Chin up! Now that you've had the courage to come this far, don't quit halfway. See your duties through." The guard took a deep breath and nodded hard, though a trace of doubt lingered in his eyes. Seeing the Alliance officer turn to leave, he couldn't help calling out to stop him. "Wait, can I ask a question? I don't understand... Since you guys prepared so thoroughly, you could've blasted Zhalas out of here before we even revolted. Why wait until today?" Lao Bai grinned. Other players might not know, but he was well aware that Fang Chang had indeed drafted a contingency plan along those lines: namely, before Zhalas could solidify his defenses on Sandbar Island, staging an armed takeover using Ring Island's airfield as a springboard, expanding the islands under the Southern Sea Alliance's control from four to five. Compared to the thirty-square-kilometer Ring Island, Sandbar Island—with its flatter terrain, lower population density, and more central location in the Southern Sea—was clearly far better suited as an air base for the Alliance in the region. In fact, the Southern Sea Alliance authorities had hoped for the same thing; Commander Li had even offered to risk deploying their fleet to provide cover for the landing force. The contingency had been submitted to the Alliance General Staff, and they had even drawn up an operational plan and execution roadmap, but unfortunately, it failed to win the Administrator's approval. "...Forced equality isn't equality. It's fine if you don't understand—I don't understand everything either. But I trust our Administrator to lead us through the end of the wasteland, just as we trusted him to lead us in holding back the Bone Chewer tribe and the Tide." Lao Bai gave his shoulder a firm squeeze, then let go. "Go do your job. Just like we're doing ours." Even as they spoke, a thunderous boom shattered the tranquil sea. A dense string of tracers drew an arc in the sky, cracking like a whip toward the heavens before bursting into two blooms of fire. A moment later, the voice of a Goblin Corps pilot came over the comm channel: "...This is Feng Qing! The enemy destroyer's defensive net is too dense! Our missiles can't punch through their point-defense systems..." The Federation Navy had been built with the Legion as its hypothetical adversary; naturally, it wasn't foolish enough to lack anti-air systems. Moreover, destroyers were mainly tasked with anti-submarine and anti-aircraft warfare. Zhalas had dispatched a destroyer to escort the assault ship precisely because he had factored in the Alliance's 'air superiority' and General Li Minghui's submarines. Still, who would've thought these guys even possessed CIWS point defenses... Lao Bai frowned slightly. Right then, fresh intelligence arrived from the Southern Alliance Headquarters: "...The enemy assault ship and escort destroyer are closing in twenty nautical miles south of you. We've detected twenty-seven sonar and radar contacts of vessel activity within a hundred and fifty nautical miles around Sandbar Island... We can't verify which coordinates are real targets. Could you have your air force check them out?" Twenty-seven contacts! Spanning a hundred and fifty nautical miles! Lao Bai's expression darkened slightly. He spoke into his comms in a low voice: "...I've passed it on to our air force. Please have your submarines keep searching the surrounding waters!" The Southern Sea Alliance operator replied immediately: "Understood!" Due to the peculiar conditions in low Earth orbit, there were no strategic satellites across the wasteland. Even if there were, pinpointing a fleet's exact position on the vast open sea was no easy feat. After finishing his call with the Goblin Corps, Lao Bai immediately switched to the squad voice channel to brief his teammates on the situation: "The enemy intends to attack our southern positions! Everyone, prepare for battle!" Resounding responses echoed over the comm channel: "Yes, sir!" The 120-man company split into three platoons, fanning out among the buildings along the island's southern side to form a triangular defensive strongpoint. At that exact moment, across the newly quieted sea, two massive vessels emerged. According to intelligence provided by the Southern Sea Alliance, that was none other than the North Island Navy's destroyer, the Reef! Its point-defense systems, mounted fore and aft, could pour out CIWS firestorms composed of hundred-gram mass slugs at extreme rates exceeding ten thousand rounds per minute—equivalent to hurtling a full ton of reaction mass into the sky in just sixty seconds! With a defensive web woven by such weaponry, not to mention missiles and drones, it could probably swat down artillery shells in sufficient numbers! Beyond its anti-air point defense, the destroyer Reef was equipped with torpedoes, missile launchers, and a 150 mm naval gun. If that thing was allowed near shore, the consequences would be catastrophic! Yet "asymmetry" on the wasteland went both ways—the biggest difference between the wasteland and reality. The Federation Navy, with over a century and a half of development behind it, was undeniably formidable, but the Alliance's land-based weapons were no pushovers either. The "Dragon" missile developed by Boulder Military Industries, modified by researchers from Shelter 70, had evolved into a land-launched, ultra-long-range anti-ship variant—the "Sea Dragon"! Shortly after the Thunder fighters failed to penetrate the defensive net, at the far end of the floating airfield off Ring Island, a boxy missile launcher raised its massive head. As the launch order came down, a streak of white smoke ruptured the blast cover and surged into the sky, propelling a silver-white missile through the dense bank of dark clouds. Like a sharp dagger, the missile traced a parabolic arc and plunged unerringly toward the Reef, which had deliberately exposed itself on Alliance and Southern Sea Alliance radars as "bait." The Reef's point-defense systems went to work without a hitch. A dense storm of lead erupted from elevated barrels, swarming like an angry hive toward the falling Sea Dragon! A blinding flash detonated in midair, yet it wasn't the secondary explosion of the Sea Dragon being destroyed. Rather, the mother warhead had actively triggered its detonation upon sensing high-speed projectiles closing in! Inside the bridge of the Reef, the man in the peaked cap felt his pupils constrict. The instant the missile detonated, an ominous foreboding seized him. Their radar hadn't picked up any enemy vessels in the surrounding waters! This was a land-based missile! At that exact moment, a chorus of curses and shouts erupted from the terminal stations just ahead of him: "Radar components overloaded! Transmitters failing to operate normally!" "Cannot lock onto enemy aircraft!" "Sonar system malfunction! Damn it!" "It's an EMP! Alert repair crews to troubleshoot immediately!" "How long will it take?!" "Damage isn't severe... Should have it sorted within five minutes!" "Five minutes?!" The destroyer Reef was equipped with anti-intense-EMP countermeasures, but activating them required shutting down its active phased-array radar and sonar systems while entering full radio silence. Having previously focused entirely on those hit-and-run aircraft and the submarines lurking somewhere beneath the waves, they hadn't anticipated the Alliance pulling a move like this. Passive anti-EMP hardening alone was clearly inadequate against a direct hit from a strategic-grade EMP weapon. Spear and shield were always relative concepts; no defense was truly impenetrable. And the loss of its radar and sonar was tantamount to gouging out both of the Reef's eyes. While the destroyer's point-defense systems possessed secondary sensor suites capable of acquiring and tracking airborne targets through optical cameras without radar, their interception efficiency would never match radar tracking. And most critical was the sonar... Those three attack submarines were the Southern Sea Alliance's trump card! Realizing the gravity of the situation, cold sweat broke out across the captain's forehead. He wheeled around toward the main battery operator: "What about the fire control system?!" "So far... no glitches detected!" Swallowing hard, the operator at the terminal gave a tense reply. That answer brought the captain no comfort whatsoever. And right then, the radioman called out: "Sir! Command has ordered us to bombard the coastline! The assault ship ahead will launch its landing craft in thirty seconds!" Stunned, the captain's eyes went wide. "Have they lost their minds?! Those are Sandbar Island residents!" The operation order had indeed mentioned covering the landing force at Sandbar Island, and explicitly noted that his ship would serve as bait to draw out the Anle Island "rebel fleet" so the ambushing main fleet could sink them. But nowhere did the plan order him to shell his own people! While the rebellion on Sandbar Island infuriated him, the ones causing trouble were the guards; the survivors living on Sandbar Island were innocent. In his eyes, at least, they were his fellow countrymen! The radioman relayed his protest to Command. Once the response came in, he looked hesitantly at the captain. "Command says... they're traitors. We are ordered to open fire immediately." There was no time to hesitate. The captain gritted his teeth and looked at the gunnery operator sitting nearby. "...Target the shoreline! Avoid the urban areas and open fire!" The gunnery operator hesitated for a split second, then snapped off an acknowledgment: "Understood!" At the command, the 150 mm main gun aboard the Reef elevated slowly. It fired a single ranging shell toward the southern shore of Sandbar Island, followed by an unleashing of furious, continuous cannon fire. Hearing the deafening report of the cannon, Lao Bai took a deep breath inside the urban building. Holding his binoculars tight, he watched the heavy landing craft draw closer across the water and barked out the order over the comms: "All hands, get ready! Safeties off! Let the enemy hit the beach first, then hit them with everything you've got!" Pausing, he switched comm channels over to Brother Chicken and spoke in a low voice: "The EMP went off without a hitch... The enemy vessel showed zero reaction when our fighters buzzed them over the clouds; their radar appears knocked out. If Shelter 70's engineers were right, their sonar should be crippled too. You're up next." A hearty laugh came over the channel: "Roger that!" By now, over thirty landing craft had closed in on the shallows south of Sandbar Island under cover of artillery, driving straight onto the beach. As ramp after ramp slammed down, a howling horde of green-skinned mutants surged ashore, eerie greenish glints shining in their amber pupils. They wielded large-caliber rifles and even machine guns, clad in modified exoskeletons with thick steel armor plates strapped over their chests—some plates still smeared with streaks of vomit. Evidently, this was their very first time aboard a boat, and in all likelihood, the last time in their lives. Seeing that their foes were mutants—and in all likelihood transferred from the northern front—every shred of mercy vanished from the eyes of the players waiting in the buildings, replaced by cold fury. "Fire—!" With that roar, pitch-black window frames lit up with muzzle flashes from heavy machine guns. Sheets of tracers poured like rain toward the beach, slamming into the charging mutants. Splattered blood dyed the sands crimson. Even so, the mutants possessed sheer numbers; those thirty-odd heavy landing craft had been crammed with nearly a thousand troops, and their heads scattered across the beach looked like a swarm of roaches. Not only that, Zhalas had clearly used North Island's industrial facilities to retrofit these mutants, producing fully enclosed exoskeletons and assault rifles tailored specifically for their bulky frames. The landing mutants divided into ten prongs, descending like an overturned bowl over the streets lining the coastline as the raging flames of battle swept along the edge of the urban area! Meanwhile, the Reef ceased its bombardment of the shoreline, maintaining vigilance per plan against the potential appearance of the Southern Sea Alliance's main fleet or submarines. Yet contrary to Zhalas's expectations, the Southern Sea Alliance fleet never showed. After deploying ground forces to Sandbar Island, the Alliance seemed to have ended its entire naval offensive after merely probing the Reef with aircraft and launching a single land-based missile—not even reacting when the Reef bombarded the shoreline near their deployed ground troops. Frankly, it made no sense! North Island Command. Gazing down at the fiercely contested battlefield via drone feed, Zhalas cursed aloud: "...What the hell is Zhang Ruowen doing?! Not a single damn shell hit the town!" Zhang Ruowen was the captain of the Reef. The landing assault had dragged on for over ten minutes, and more than half of the thousand mutants ashore had been killed or wounded. Only now did Zhalas finally realize that the earlier barrage had accomplished jack shit. The defensive troops entrenched in the urban center had suffered virtually zero casualties, with little more than a few roads torn up. Now the landing force was bogged down, the Southern Sea Alliance's main fleet hadn't taken the bait, and the ambush fleet he had hidden in nearby waters was waiting in vain. Beside Zhalas, a staff officer lowered his voice: "Given the current strength on Sandbar Island, I fear it won't be enough to take the whole island. The Alliance also deployed a defensive force on the northern beachhead... If the bait operation hasn't worked, I suggest recalling the Reef first." Zhalas's face darkened. "Our operation hasn't failed yet." The staff officer nodded. "True, but waiting any longer won't yield better results—especially since Anle Island is already aware our main fleet isn't at North Island..." Hearing the second half of that sentence, Zhalas sobered up rapidly. Indeed. The greatest danger of the entire plan wasn't losing a destroyer; it was leaving North Island vulnerable in a defensive vacuum. Arms crossed over his chest, his index finger tapped his sleeve twice before he turned to the radioman: "Order the Reef to withdraw... No, get their captain on the line. Hand me the headset! I'll talk to that idiot myself!" Snatching the headset from the operator, he clamped it over his ears. "What the hell are you doing?! I told you to shell the town on Sandbar Island! Where the fuck did you dump those shells?!" No response came across the channel. The man seemed to know he was in the wrong, too ashamed to speak. After railing at his subordinate, Zhalas paused to catch his breath, composing himself before continuing: "...I don't give a damn about your thoughts or excuses! Because of your dereliction of duty, we missed a golden opportunity to crush our opponents in one fell swoop! Now get your ass back here immediately!" To his utter disbelief, however, an unfamiliar voice suddenly broke the long silence: "They're not coming back." Zhalas gave a violent start, blurting out instinctively: "Who the fuck are you?!" A hearty chuckle resonated over the line, followed by a cheerful introduction: "Midnight Chicken Slaughter, leader of the Jungle Corps! Anyway, thanks for the ship, boss!" Zhalas: "???"