This Is Who We Are

The dark clouds of war hung heavy over Tiandu. Wilante bayonets were practically pressed against the throats of the Brahma people. It wasn't just the survivors in the city who felt crushed; even the fish and shrimp in the Yongliu River could barely breathe under the suffocating pressure. Yet at this precarious juncture, an extraordinary development entirely unrelated to the war emerged in Tiandu, offering a breath of cool air to the sweltering room. The Education Commission of the State of Brahma suddenly announced the founding of Tiandu University, opening enrollment to all eligible youth aged twelve to sixteen and sixteen to twenty. The former group would enter a preparatory program, while the latter would enroll in undergraduate studies. The curriculum covered engineering, natural sciences, sociology, and various other disciplines. Because Tiandu University currently consisted of nothing more than a wooden signboard—lacking lecture halls, faculty, and even basic textbooks—this incoming class was temporarily slated to travel to Mammoth City to receive their education at Mammoth University. This round of recruitment aimed to admit five hundred students: three hundred in the preparatory program and two hundred undergraduates. The Education Commission of the State of Brahma would cover all expenses during their studies, including tuition and living costs. Upon finishing their preparatory program, students would either remain in Mammoth City to continue their education or return to Tiandu for undergraduate studies, depending on their academic performance and the changing tides of the war. As for the undergraduates, upon completing their degrees, they would return to Tiandu to serve as professors at Tiandu University or be placed in suitable, specialized positions arranged by the authorities of Brahma. In short, as long as you passed the entrance exam, you wouldn't have to worry about the rest of your life—the Supreme Commander would worry about it for you. The examination was to be held within Tiandu's celestial palace. Aside from the age requirement, the sole criteria were basic literacy and numeracy. After all, if someone couldn't even write their own name, taking the test would be pointless, wasting both paper and everyone's time. Although undertaking such a project in the middle of a war seemed somewhat ill-timed, Commissioner Kabaha's reform proposal received a green light all the way through thanks to Absaik's endorsement. Not only did the initiative encounter little resistance from the administration, but the residents of Tiandu were equally swept up in enthusiasm. Absaik was sending five hundred students to study abroad in Mammoth City! This was massive news! After all, going to Mammoth City meant being spared from conscription, and it allowed one to leave the perilous front lines behind! What was more, once they returned, Absaik would set them up with official posts! Could such a godsend truly exist in this world?! The moment the news broke, the entire city of Tiandu erupted into a frenzy! Even though the official bulletin said no such thing, almost everyone mentally reinterpreted the text the moment they saw the rubber stamp affixed to the bottom. Terrified of missing this life-altering opportunity, every literate survivor rushed to register, regardless of whether they met the age criteria. Parents also scrambled to sign up their sons and daughters. This group, in particular, made up the overwhelming majority. Whether learned or unlettered, all applicants whose names were registered began frantically cramming at the eleventh hour, sparking a sudden wave of study across Tiandu. Every book available on the market was bought out until stocks were completely exhausted. Those coming to buy books included respectable figures in long sleeves, soldiers in military uniforms, and elderly farmers clad in nothing more than a strip of cloth around their waists. Most were not buying to read the books themselves; they were buying them for their children at home. Later, when all the books were gone, even the newspapers at the newsstands suffered the same fate. Virtually anything bearing printed words was swept clean. "... Holy crap, are these NPCs really that eager to learn?" In Debt God stared in astonishment at the ransacked newsstand. This was entirely different from the scene he had witnessed in Golden Gallon Port. People there were eager learners too—almost every girl he ran into claimed to be a student—but he had never seen a spectacle where even newsstands were cleaned out. "Mmm... Nothing to do with us. Let's head back to the barracks," Construction Site Boy and Bricks said with a nuanced expression. These Brahma folks loved taking everything to extremes, just like this. What they truly craved wasn't knowledge or truth, but the power that knowledge might bring. He couldn't say whether this was good or bad, but for people who had been living in a feudal society just years earlier, it was unmistakably a step forward. Even though he hadn't seen what the exam papers looked like, it was far more dependable than selecting talent through animal chess. The two ambled back to the barracks, where they spotted several young officers standing near the entrance. One of them looked familiar. His name seemed to be Isher, a figure who had maintained quite a presence during the West Sail Port incident. After that incident concluded, Farsighted Eagle's forum posts hadn't mentioned him again, only noting that he had later become a border millurion along the frontier between the State of Brahma and West Sail Port, his fate unknown once the war broke out. Who would have guessed the guy was still alive? He truly lived up to his rat heritage. Just then, Brother Edge also emerged from the barracks. He walked up to the cluster of officers, exchanged a few words, and then turned his gaze toward the myriad commander who was set to march to the front with them. "You must be Isher." "Myriad Commander Isher of the 3rd Myriad! Ready for your orders, General!" Isher snapped to attention and saluted crisply, his voice ringing loud and clear. Looking at the spirited young officer, Brother Edge smiled. "I'm no general. Just a corps commander. By your military ranks, my standing is probably lower than yours." Strictly speaking, players didn't hold formal military ranks. In their place was a system of contribution points reflecting their service to the Alliance. Isher chuckled heartily upon hearing that. "How can you say that, sir! You are the teacher, and I am the student—that is a completely different hierarchy. Please, don't hold back. If you see anything displeasing, just tell me, and I'll make sure it's corrected!" *This brother sure knows how to talk.* Brother Edge chuckled and replied in a bantering tone, "I was worried earlier that the Supreme Commander would assign me someone rigid and unyielding. Looks like I was overthinking it. Good! That clever spark of yours is exactly what guerrilla warfare needs. I have high hopes for you!" Isher grinned, a distinct trace of pride showing between his brows, like a student who had just earned praise. From his perspective, that was entirely justified. After all, the person standing before him was the commander of the Death Corps! It was said that during the Battle of Torch, this corps from River Valley Province, fighting as part of the Mutual Aid Community allied forces, had won illustrious military laurels for the survivor faction, liberating two whole provinces from Torch's grip! By contrast, their predecessors—the Rat Clan soldiers sent on the expedition to Jinchuan Province—had merely played bit roles on the battlefield, not even qualifying as third-line units. Earning recognition from the commander of the Death Corps filled him with even greater pride than any medal bestowed by Absaik. "By the way, how should I address you, General?" Brother Edge's expression froze slightly, and he gave an awkward cough. "Uh... Just call me Edge. That's what my brothers call me." Certain handles didn't feel like much when typed out on a keyboard, but speaking them aloud never failed to evoke a twinge of embarrassment. Clearly, he wasn't the only one who felt that way. Hearing the name, Isher paused as well. *Edge.* *What a strange name.* Still, he had heard that everyone from the Alliance was like this, especially the vault dwellers from the Era of Prosperity. Sharp at reading people, he picked up on Edge's awkwardness immediately and smoothly steered the topic elsewhere with a smile. "... Then General Edge, when do we leave for the front?" Brother Edge smiled. "Up to you guys. We're already packed and ready to roll out anytime." Isher replied, "What a coincidence—so are we!" Brother Edge raised an eyebrow slightly and gave the man a closer look. "Fine. Since you said so, let's move out right now!" ... While the survivors of Tiandu were busy cramming for their exams, a massive army quietly marched out of the city. Spearheaded by the Death Corps, an army of nearly two hundred thousand marched back toward the front lines. Aside from the 3rd Myriad led by Isher, which counted as Absaik's direct lineage, most of the other myriads were commanded by Yudono's former subordinates—the "defeated troops" that had withdrawn from Lion City. Yet despite their recent defeat, their morale was far from depressed. If anything, it soared. Because the Alliance brothers were standing beside them. They didn't see this as being used as cannon fodder; quite the opposite. This was their chance for revenge! They would return the humiliation of that day to the Wilante, showing those big-nosed bastards that they, too, had backbone! And they would show Absaik and the survivors of Tiandu that they were no cowards! In this new campaign, they would alter the strategy used in Lion State. Half of the forces would maintain the front, while the other half would follow Death Corps officers to infiltrate behind enemy lines. Such was the case for the 3rd Myriad, which spearheaded the advance alongside the Death Corps. Although most of the men in this unit were raw recruits, Isher didn't coddle them or keep them idling in the rear. The battlefield was unpredictable; sometimes, the most dangerous places were actually the safest. In particular, if the Legion was eager to capture Tiandu, the fighting on the front lines would likely prove even bloodier than Absaik anticipated, at which point the distinction between the front line and the rear would cease to exist. Of course, part of the reason for making such a risky decision stemmed from Isher's instincts. His intuition told him that staying closer to the Alliance folks meant staying safer. And it offered a better chance to learn real skills. Although his boys wouldn't have the opportunity to study in Mammoth State, he believed this experience would become an equally indelible milestone on their records—just as the West Sail Port tragedy had been for him. As long as they survived and secured ultimate victory, they would pass the test... The commander of the Death Corps didn't object, readily taking him and his brave young men along. Thus, after three days and three nights of hard marching, the two forces advanced in grand fashion to the border between Ox State and Lion State, arriving at a place called Akale County. This was where the Yongliu River bent, making it a strategic strongpoint neither side could afford to ignore. Water flowing from the western flanks of the Zhuobar Mountains resembled a dense spiderweb feeding into western Ox State, meandering along the boundary between hills and plains like a coiled python. Upon reaching Akale County, the north-south flow of the river turned west-to-east, cutting across the central plains before emptying into the sea at the eastern mouth of Brahma Province. Because recurring floods constantly battered the western riverbank and plain, a vast floodplain and alluvial flat had formed on the lower-lying western side. East of the winding river channel lay a near-primitive forest, its dense canopy stretching northward alongside rolling hills until merging into the Zhuobar Mountains. After conducting aerial photography and ground reconnaissance of the surrounding terrain, the Death Corps decided to set up camp on the eastern bank of the river, scattering their 155-millimeter field howitzers and 20-millimeter quadruple anti-aircraft guns throughout the forest. The alluvial plain on the western bank would severely constrain the marching speed of the Legion's mobile forces. If the enemy wanted to enter Akale County, they couldn't afford to ignore this thorn embedded across the river—unless they intended to abandon their supply lines entirely. With the strategic deployment complete, Brother Edge tracked down Isher and instructed him to disperse his combat units into the wooded hills to dig L-shaped dugouts deep enough for a man to conceal himself inside. Logistics units would deliver supplies once every three days. For the rest of the time, barring active missions, the units were to remain on standby inside the holes. This was merely part of the preparations. In addition to the "rat holes" scattered across the forest, they had to prepare fixed firing positions among the trees, such as light machine gun bunkers, to snipe at Wilante troops who ventured deep into the woods to search. Though the recruits lacked proficiency, with help from the Death Corps players, their work didn't turn out too clumsy. After three full days of labor, they finally finished constructing the positions. All that remained was to wait patiently... Given the impatient nature of the Wilante, though, they wouldn't have to wait long. On the day after the fortifications were completed, the scouts Brother Edge had sent forward quickly sent back word— The Legion's forces were here! ... Crouching on a ridge overlooking the river, Yang Youbao raised his binoculars toward the distant alluvial plain and blurted out without warning, "This place would definitely be great for farming." Carrying Umbrella Not Knife at Midnight glanced at him in surprise. "You actually know about that?" Yang Youbao gave a smug grin. "Of course. Plus three food!" Carrying Umbrella Not Knife at Midnight: "...?" *What the hell?* Before he could wrap his head around what the guy meant, Laplace beside them couldn't resist chiming in. "... What patch are you living on? Floodplains are trash now unless you build the Great Bath. Every other turn a flood wipes out your population, and the yield bonus is negligible." Yang Youbao said, "Ah... Seems fine to me. Anyway, if Torres del Paine isn't within three tiles of my spawn, I restart immediately." Laplace retorted, "Holy crap, don't you have to reroll maps the whole damn day?!" Yang Youbao said, "Got to do something while waiting for the respawn cooldown." Laplace: "..." Seeing his buddy go quiet, Yang Youbao grinned and coaxed, "Hop on multiplayer when we die in a bit, let's reroll starts together." Laplace: "Piss off." Carrying Umbrella Not Knife at Midnight stared blankly at the two of them. "What the hell are you guys even talking about?!" He wasn't the only one baffled; Isher, who happened to overhear the conversation, wore an equally confounded expression. It wasn't because of the content of their banter, but because he couldn't comprehend a single word they were saying. "Did you make up your own language?" Isher turned to Edge beside him and asked curiously. With a nuanced expression, Edge nodded. "You could say that..." *If we didn't invent it, what, did aliens drop it on us?* Isher nodded. Though his face remained composed, envy churned within his chest. Sharing a common tongue was surely an expression of cohesion. Ever since realizing that "Boer the Awakened" could not save Brahma Province, he had been pondering a new path forward, and now he finally caught a glimmer of inspiration. If the survivors of Brahma Province truly wanted a way forward, they had to cultivate their own culture... Just as he was lost in thought, a billowing cloud of dust rose along the horizon—unmistakably kicked up by vehicle tires. Noticing the disturbance, Brother Edge raised a hand instantly. Everyone ducked behind cover, pressing themselves flat against the ground so as not to betray a single trace of their presence. Isher did the same, his muscles locking tight with tension as he involuntarily held his breath. Just as that swirling dust breached the horizon, a towering steel fortress simultaneously parted the thick clouds, showcasing its oppressive bulk in the sky above. The *Horn*! Isher's eyes went wide, his pupils flooded half with fear, half with hatred and fury. He clenched his fists so hard his knuckles turned white, wishing he could tear that monster apart with his bare glare! That was the very thing that had firebombed Lion City! He would never forget the roaring inferno that consumed the urban districts that day, nor the desperate flight of his compatriots trapped in the flames. The players lying beside the fortifications held up their binoculars, devoid of such dramatic emotional turmoil, calmly observing the enemy movements as they tracked the vehicles in the distance. "Three Greyhounds!" "A Wilante scout squad. Probably a mechanized infantry brigade bringing up the rear..." "Wonder if it's the 30th Myriad. It'd be great if we ran into them." "Say, didn't their scout squads usually deploy with ten vehicles before?" "Their 'supplier' must be falling short." "Or maybe our 'Kraken' was just that effective." "Haha." Staring unblinkingly at the dust cloud drawing closer, the players prone on the position chatted and laughed, looking as though they didn't take their opponents seriously in the slightest. "Don't worry, brother." Noticing Isher's tense expression, Brother Edge rested a hand on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze with a grin. "Trust me, there's nothing to fear from that heap of scrap." Back when they faced MacLaren, half their gear was self-made and the other half was salvaged from the dead. Even players with lifestyle professions had to step up and hold the line. Didn't they still bring that monster down in the end? He had always believed that people were the decisive factor in victory. Isher's Adam's apple bobbed. He drew a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. "Right... Is there anything I can do?" Brother Edge turned his gaze back toward the rolling dust ahead, his eyes narrowing slightly. "All you need to do is stay hidden." "We'll teach you how to stay alive under enemy artillery fire, and how to survive. Then, just when they think we're all wiped out, we'll spring out and smash them right in the teeth." "This war has only just begun; there's plenty more fighting ahead. If the day comes when we aren't around, take what we've taught you and pass it on to your people. Keep our banner alive." *Keep it alive...* Isher's eyes wavered slightly. "... Is this what the Death Corps is all about?" "Pretty much. This is who we are." Just as Brother Edge's words faded, the slowly cruising airship suddenly dipped its gun barrels, spewing bursts of flashing fire toward the eastern bank of the Yongliu River! Watching the barrage of shells screaming toward them, Isher's pupils contracted violently. "Did they spot us?!" Brother Edge chuckled. "They don't need to spot us. In an obvious spot like this, anyone with a brain knows we'd be here... That's why I had your men scatter and take cover, digging bomb shelters beforehand." Firing on the move rather than dropping anchor chains first made it obvious the enemy hadn't pinpointed their precise locations. Just as he had predicted, the incoming shells possessed zero accuracy, tracing erratic paths through the sky before crashing into the empty, rugged hills. The entire mountainous area contained thirty or forty ridges at the very least; a hundred-odd shells landing there was like poking toothpicks into a loaf of bread. The roar of detonations arrived almost simultaneously with the thunder of the airborne cannons, shaking the entire forest down to its roots. Brother Edge's brow furrowed. Suddenly, he caught an unusual scent amid the thick smoke of the explosions. "Gas shells!" Snapping to full alert, he swiftly pulled a spare gas mask from his gear and tossed it onto Isher's chest. "Put this damn thing on!" Isher didn't hesitate for a second, immediately slipping on the mask his Alliance comrade had tossed him. Yet a moment later, he remembered the men crouching in the foxholes. "My subordinates..." "There are gas masks in the supply crates we left them... My boys showed them how to use them," Brother Edge murmured, keeping his gaze locked on the airship above. Those masks weren't expensive. The players had carried two each, and seeing that the 3rd Myriad had none, they had shared half of their stash. The elements of the 3rd Myriad deployed to the forward positions only amounted to about two cohorts, while the Death Corps numbered five thousand; sharing with them was more than manageable. Still, he hadn't expected the Legion to resort to chemical shells. He had anticipated them setting the mountain ablaze, but it seemed he had given their moral bottom line too much credit. A sickly yellow-green haze drifted through the woods, causing several trees to wither at a rate visible to the naked eye. The gas was distinctly denser than air, refusing to dissipate quickly. Without gas masks, the casualties would have been catastrophic! Fortunately, a gust of wind swept across the ridges, blowing away a portion of the poison fog clinging to the peaks. Presumably assuming anyone in the hills was now dead, the scout vehicles patrolling the riverbank completed a sweep and, under their commander's orders, finally crept forward with evident reluctance. Simultaneously, rows of armored personnel carriers rolled into view from the distance. It was a substantial force, appearing to be a cohort—equivalent to an Alliance regiment. Yang Youbao lowered his binoculars and looked back at Brother Edge with an excited grin. "Looks like they're preparing to cross the river!" "Seems their commander isn't all that confident in his own artillery after all." Brother Edge gave a low chuckle and pressed down on the communicator mounted on his shoulder. "All units, heads up: enemy is preparing to cross!" "Wait until they've laid their bridges and set foot on this bank before you open fire!" A chorus of crisp responses echoed across the comms channel. "Copy that!"