The creaking of tracks mingled with the hum of cicadas by the roadside, yet the returning squad was shrouded in dead silence despite their victory.
Not long ago, coordinating with infantry riding in wheeled armored vehicles, they had raided a village nestled at the foot of a mountain.
There were hardly any decent houses in the whole village. The only things of value were a diesel generator and a tractor bought from the Wilante.
It was quite a feat for the scout squad to have tracked down this godforsaken place.
There wasn't even a proper road from Milyans County to this village.
Of course, what was even more hateful were those Brahma soldiers.
Those bastards had stashed their plundered gear and supplies here, and had even egged the villagers into attacking them. They had had no choice but to open fire on the villagers...
At least, thinking so gave them some small comfort.
Carver still remembered how, on the way to the battlefield, their gunner, Valke, had constantly clamored about breaking his record of "111," while Jesden, the radio operator, and Joe, the loader, argued red in the face over which bar in West Sail Port had prettier girls.
Now, Valke sat mute as a post, not saying a single word, let alone boasting about how many he had killed.
Jesden and Joe were still chatting in fits and starts, but the awkward, forced topics made one cringe to the core.
In the end, only their commander, Barker, remained as silent as ever, always doing only what needed to be done and speaking only what needed to be said.
Carver suddenly recalled that back at Evernight Port, it had seemed much the same.
Everything seemed to have changed, yet seemed not to have changed at all...
For a brief moment, a thought struck Carver that he had never entertained before.
If only he hadn't picked up that conscription flyer back then, but instead walked a few extra steps to that familiar farmers' market and used his saved scholarship money to buy a tractor to drive home.
The one at home happened to be worn out.
His father had always talked about replacing it with a new one. He had intended to give the old man a surprise, but ended up doing what most Wilante did—acting on a hot-headed impulse, taking the flyer to the recruiting station, shouting "For the Marshal!", and climbing into a tank.
Yet after stumbling onto the battlefield in a daze, he found that what he saw and heard was completely different from what he had imagined...
As he drifted in thought, his attention slipped.
Right at that moment, a broad, heavy palm grabbed his shoulder.
"Watch the road."
The commander's voice jolted Carver from his daze. Stamping on the steering pedal, he brought the tank back onto the faint road, barely avoiding sending one side of the tracks into a ditch.
To ease the stiff atmosphere in the cabin, Joe gave a short laugh.
"Can you handle it, man? How about letting Valke drive instead?"
"Sure," Carver laughed awkwardly, secretly harboring the same thought.
Yet Valke, sitting not far behind his head, acted as if he hadn't heard a thing, remaining silently in place.
The air froze again.
No one uttered a sound.
Carver thought the rest of the journey would pass in this silence, never expecting a shrill, sharp whine to abruptly pierce his ears.
"Screeech—!"
Flickering flames, like a dagger ripping through the jungle, dragged a long streak of white smoke straight toward the wheeled armored vehicle driving a short distance ahead of them.
Sparks from the explosion scattered in all directions, followed by black smoke billowing from the armored vehicle's hood.
The rear door of the wheeled armored vehicle burst outward, and exoskeleton-clad soldiers gripping rifles leaped out of the compartment in rapid succession.
At the same time, the chattering rattle of gunfire echoed from the woods. Concentrated volleys of tracer rounds rained down upon the Wilante squad taking cover behind the armored vehicle.
"It's a Panzerfaust! Dammit, our own rocket launchers!" Carver bellowed, instinctively yanking the handbrake.
Chaos erupted inside the cabin. Joe, the loader, swiftly rammed a high-explosive shell into the breech, while Jesden, the radio operator, yelled frantically into the radio, trying to contact the squad ahead.
An ambush erupted in an instant, and everyone snapped into combat mode in the blink of an eye!
"Guerrillas!"
"Ten o'clock!"
"Fire!!"
Valke's movements were as swift as ever.
Following his roar, that steady, precise, vicious shot blasted from the barrel, exploding into a burst of sparks and flame in the nearby woods.
He didn't pause. Right after launching the high-explosive shell, he quickly adjusted the cannon and unleashed the tank's coaxial machine gun, chattering away into the woods.
In coordination with the immobilized wheeled armored vehicle, the storm of fire poured from both vehicles cast a web of death across the dense forest!
The gunfire from the Brahma soldiers fell quiet for a moment, seemingly suppressed by heavy casualties.
Yet very soon, the briefly subsided gunfire surged back to life, fiercer and more relentless than before.
Before long, another rocket shot out from the jungle, slamming right below the armored vehicle's turret.
The shaped-charge jet burned through the ballistic liner, striking the ammo rack concealed behind the armor dead-on!
"Boom—!"
The fire of the explosion tossed the armored vehicle's turret into the air, followed by a crackling series of secondary detonations.
Caught completely off guard, half of the ten-man squad using the vehicle as cover were wiped out by the sympathetic detonation, while the few survivors, battered and bloodied, had no choice under the sweeping machine-gun fire but to scramble frantically into the woods for their lives.
"Dammit! We have to get out of here right now!" Barker slammed his fist against the cabin wall, his face dark.
"These Brahma bastards came for revenge..." Joe muttered, his lips drained of color and trembling violently.
Jesden was just as rattled, hurriedly cramming shells into the breech while cursing up a storm. "Why now of all times?! Why couldn't they have come earlier?!"
There were no friendly aircraft operating nearby; they had no air support to call upon.
Even if their air force comrades scrambled from the airfield at West Sail Port, it would be far too late by the time they arrived.
"Carver! Drive! Wait, what the hell are you doing?!"
"The track is snapped! I'm going out to fix it! Cover me!"
"No! Stay in the tank! Let Joe go—"
Barker bellowed, but it was already too late to stop him.
Blood rushing to his head, Carver had already unlatched the driver's hatch and scrambled outside.
Letting the radio operator go might have been a better choice, and crawling out through the bottom hatch would have been safer, but he didn't even know why he had acted this way.
Bullets whizzed overhead, but he paid them no heed.
The surging adrenaline had numbed his pain and his fear of death.
War—
This was what war was fucking about!
Perhaps under the protection of the Marshal, not a single stray bullet struck him.
Tearing down the toolbox strapped to the rear of the tank and doing his best to ignore the chattering machine gun and roaring cannon overhead, he rolled onto his side in front of the tracks, trying to unpin the broken link and replace it with a fresh one.
Yet right at that moment, his good luck seemed to run out. An armor-piercing shell slammed into the tank's side armor less than two meters away from him!
The deafening blast nearly shattered his eardrums, and the scorching shockwave almost knocked him unconscious.
Thank goodness it was a shaped-charge round!
Had it been high explosive or something else, his soul would already be on its way back to Triumph City.
"Dammit—!"
A searing, agonizing pain from his calf made Carver gasp.
Not daring to look at the wound, he scrambled up from the ground, grabbed the fallen link, and reconnected the broken track almost entirely on muscle memory.
Through his desperate efforts, the tank miraculously lurched back into motion.
And right at that moment, Brahma soldiers carrying rifles charged out of the jungle.
"Aaaagh!"
"Kill them!!"
Gripping their assault rifles, they sprayed bullets to draw the tank's fire while charging forward recklessly. Amid the chaotic gunfire, one man charged forward like a madman, roaring and holding aloft an explosive satchel that spat sparks.
Carver drew the sidearm at his waist almost on instinct and pulled the trigger.
The marksmanship honed at the military academy proved its worth.
A few sharp pistol cracks proved even more effective than the chattering coaxial machine gun, dropping the man with the satchel charge to the dirt.
A deafening explosion erupted once more. The expanding shockwave slammed directly into Carver's chest, and with a muffled groan, he blacked out completely.
In his daze, he seemed to hallucinate, hearing his comrades arguing inside the cabin.
"We have to go!"
"Carver is still outside!"
"There's no time!"
"..."
Maybe they hadn't argued at all, but thinking so made him feel a little better.
Apparently concluding he was beyond saving, the tank sped away.
It was a light tank, after all.
Even with the wretched road conditions in this area, when it hit full stride, it moved far faster than two legs ever could...
In his stupor, Carver felt his collar grabbed.
A group of people surrounded him, hauling him up from a pool of mud.
A man with a blood-streaked face drew a dagger, likely intending to carve out his heart alive, but before the blade could strike, another Brahma soldier caught his arm.
"Enough. Too many people have sacrificed their lives already."
The blood-smeared man roared furiously at the officer-like figure.
"He killed my brother! My own flesh and blood! And what about that village?! How are we going to settle that score?!"
Carver looked at them, panting, and then glanced at the pairs of eyes burning with hatred all around him, pure terror written on his face.
Yet the officer's next words brought him a warmth like a gentle spring breeze.
"They are victims too. We are not the only survivors who suffer."
Afterward, the officer said something more. As if chanting some spell, he managed to calm the demon-like, blood-soaked man.
Carver watched the officer walk over in front of him. His Adam's apple bobbed; he wanted to voice his gratitude, yet found no words.
The man spoke first.
"Your name."
"...Carver."
"I am Amin." Amin looked at him, reaching out to straighten Carver's collar. "Carver, you are a prisoner of war."
The man's bearing and manner of speech didn't sound like a Brahma local at all. For a moment, Carver had the illusion of having traveled back to Evernight Port.
"I... surrender."
Saying those words, he felt not the slightest guilt, but rather remorse and contrition.
He thought of the villagers who had been killed. Though he hadn't pulled the trigger himself, he had been in that vehicle.
He thought of the young man carrying the satchel charge. Though he would have died had he not fired, regret still washed over him unbidden...
"We accept your surrender," Amin said, smiling kindly as he looked at the remorseful Carver, his tone gentle. "And we hope you will cooperate with us."
...
Gray Wolf Army Command.
Pacing back and forth before the map, Commander Gopal of the Gray Wolf Army was throwing a rare fit of rage, swearing violently.
"That bastard! He's fucking forgotten who he is!"
Operation North Wind had been a resounding victory, far exceeding initial expectations, yet he could not muster an ounce of joy.
Because just moments ago, he had received word that an army of one hundred thousand was advancing toward Snake State.
Such a massive offensive was commonplace on the northern front, but unprecedented in the south.
Unlike Gopal, Sava stood inside the command tent with a calm, unruffled expression.
Only when Gopal had calmed down a bit did he speak slowly.
"Mr. Zayed said that given the Wilante's vindictive nature, they will certainly retaliate. However, there is no need to worry overly much; our enemy is not a monolithic block either."
Gopal's heart stirred, and he paused, looking at Zayed's follower.
"Then what if we call our informants right now and have the elements within the Southern Legion's logistics system pull some strings..."
Before he could finish, Sava cleared his throat and cut off his unrealistic notion.
"Impossible. General Gulion's approval of this operation was precisely intended to use this opportunity to rein in the Southern Legion's logistics system. Our unconventional moves have already rubbed some informants the wrong way. If we ask them for help over something like this, we will only burn the covert lines we worked so hard to cultivate."
Gopal composed himself and asked, "Then what should we do?"
"Endure," Sava replied.
Hearing this unexpected answer, Gopal's brow twitched violently.
"And what if they push into Snake State?"
Sava smiled faintly.
"Then all the better. Shahrukh is always tripping us from behind, wanting to use us as cannon fodder while squeezing us dry. We can use their momentum against them, making this force of a hundred thousand appear like a million!
"If their momentum isn't grand enough, we'll build it up for them! If Shahrukh doesn't want to send his own elite guards to plug the frontline, he'll have to untie the noose around our necks—give us guns, give us grain, and give us men!"
As for occupying Snake State, that was out of the question.
From a strategic perspective, Gulion was unlikely to scatter his chips to the south where the threat was smallest.
To thoroughly alienate his own logistics corps and gamble the outcome of the entire war just to seize a tasteless chicken rib...
As long as General Gulion was a sane man, he would never do such a thing.
Only Grove was still fantasizing about altering the grand trend with his petty cleverness, trying to turn Snake State into another focal point of the war.
Truly clever men rode the tide of momentum, while those who relied on petty cunning would ultimately be crushed beneath it.
A glimmer of understanding surfaced in Gopal's eyes, and he stared intently at Sava.
"...All of this is Zayed's idea?"
Sava gave a faint smile without answering directly.
"Aside from General Grove taking a staged play and turning it into a real offensive beyond his expectations, everything else was arranged by Mr. Zayed personally. Commander Absaik once gave him two difficult problems; now, both near-impossible problems have been resolved."
Hearing this, Gopal burst into hearty laughter.
"Interesting! Hahaha, that's fucking brilliant!"
After a long while, seeming to have had his fill of laughing, he relaxed and looked at Sava.
"Then what about Grove? Though the fellow is my subordinate, his defiance of orders is a major problem. I'm afraid he'll ruin things down the line. If you want to discipline him, go ahead; no need to mind my opinion. I can even do the dirty work myself."
"A man like General Grove isn't bad by nature; he merely prizes honor too much. Why would we discipline such a good comrade? Furthermore, the plan he presented bears both your signature and Mr. Zayed's. Punishing him would be slapping our own faces, and slapping the Alliance's face as well."
Sava shot a peculiar look at the pensive Gopal, mimicking Zayed's tone as he added:
"A job well done deserves a reward—and a generous one at that!"
...
"...Recently, according to reports wired back by our correspondent stationed in Tiandu, Brahma Province, the Southern Front Army of the State of Brahma launched a surprise attack in the early morning hours of September 11 against Southern Legion forces stationed in the Wolf State region.
"The operation was code-named 'Operation North Wind,' commanded by General Grove, the second-in-command of the Gray Wolf Army. The participating units, led by the 101st Myriad of the State of Brahma, totaled over ninety thousand troops. In this operation, the units employed large quantities of light equipment and human-powered transport, breaking down into small groups to infiltrate nearly one hundred kilometers deep into territory controlled by the Southern Legion.
"According to an interview with General Grove conducted by the Golden Gallon Port branch of the Survivor Daily, this operation was a resounding victory. The attacking Southern Front Army suffered only two thousand casualties while achieving the remarkable result of wiping out over thirty thousand enemy troops! In addition, the operation destroyed over fifty logistical hubs and seventeen production facilities, capturing nearly one hundred thousand light weapons, approximately one million rounds of ammunition, twenty field guns, and over two hundred heavy machine guns.
"Meanwhile, according to public information released by media in West Sail Port, the operation resulted in 500 Wilante and 3,117 auxiliary troop casualties. Although the Southern Legion suffered military supply losses totaling ninety million dinars, damaged depots and production facilities have essentially returned to operation after a week of maintenance. Furthermore, owing to the deployment of drone units and modern artillery, the Southern Front Army of the State of Brahma suffered nearly ten thousand casualties.
"Due to the substantial discrepancies between both sides' reported casualty and loss figures, this station merely reports their respective claims.
"In addition, the Absaik administration praised the operation highly, while strongly condemning the Southern Legion's brutal conduct in Snake State and the extensive civilian casualties caused during their counteroffensive. A spokesperson for the Southern Legion, on the other hand, stated that they hope the guerrillas will not use civilians as shields, and that Wilante soldiers serving on the front line will defend the alliance between the Legion and the Empire at all costs, eradicating all insurgents without hesitation.
"At present, Shahrukh, the influential strongman of southern Brahma Province who finds himself at the center of the storm, has yet to issue an official statement on the operation. However, according to our correspondent, the offensive indeed received the signed authorization of Shahrukh himself and the high command of the Gray Wolf Army.
"Previously, Shahrukh's inaction in the face of Wolf State's fall had drawn widespread controversy across Brahma Province, with rumors circulating that his faction maintained shady financial ties with elements within the Southern Legion. This forceful offensive serves, to some degree, as a response to those speculations.
"Analysts in Golden Gallon Port claim that Operation North Wind, as the first large-scale offensive under Shahrukh's banner, may mark a turning point in the current stalemate. However, other analysts argue that whether in scale or results achieved, the operation is unlikely to exert a substantive impact on the Southern Legion's strategic disposition unless Shahrukh commits more of his core assets.
"Following the incident, the Southern Legion rapidly dispatched the 60th and 61st Myriads, alongside over one hundred thousand auxiliary troops, toward southern Wolf State, launching a major military operation code-named 'Falling Leaves,' which appears to be their answer to 'North Wind.'
"Furthermore, according to sources in West Sail Port, a bust of General Grove has been added to the new deck of playing cards issued by the Southern Legion's Brahma Province theater, carrying a bounty of 100,000 dinars.
"Currently, the highest bounty in this card series remains Ishel, whose bounty from the Southern Legion has been raised to five million dinars...
"In addition, this station once again reminds all viewers: participation by Alliance citizens as mercenaries in wars unauthorized by Alliance authorities constitutes an illegal act. Relevant professionals are advised to accept contracts through official channels and must refrain from taking reckless risks...
"This is Dawn City News reporting!"
In a tavern in Weifu City, the television mounted to the ceiling above the bar was broadcasting the news from Dawn City Television Station.
Speaking of Dawn City Television Station, it had quite a history now.
Back during the great upheaval of Boulder City, it was this station and Dawn City's Survivor Daily that had provided on-the-ground coverage of the city's situation. Today, the station's reach had expanded thousands of kilometers away.
Just like the Alliance's cables.
Sitting beside the bar, a mercenary fitted with cybernetic prosthetics took a swig of beer and grinned at the screen.
"Grove... another new name. Brahma Province sure has a lot of second-in-commands."
The drunk sitting next to him let out a belch and chuckled derisively.
"You're remembering it wrong yourself. The guy is the second-in-command of the Gray Wolf Army; across the entirety of Brahma Province, he probably wouldn't even rank."
This war had been dragging on for nearly half a year, with major events happening practically every other day.
In all of Weifu City, perhaps only someone like him, who spent every evening after work soaking in the tavern, could remember the plot of every single news broadcast.
As the Alliance's print media and entertainment industry were still in their infancy, televisions and other display terminals were gradually becoming widespread, yet the most dedicated news consumers were actually the drunks who needed the news to accompany their drinks.
The mercenary looked a bit embarrassed and cleared his throat to change the subject.
"Gray Wolf Army... what the hell is that anyway? I've never heard of them."
"Can't blame you for that," the drunk burped. "I watch the news every day, and I've barely seen them on screen more than a handful of times. This is probably their finest hour lately."
Just as he finished, another middle-aged man sitting nearby chimed in with a laugh.
"Doesn't look like your memory is any better. Those guys made the headlines several times last year."
This opened the floodgates, and the patrons at the bar began chattering enthusiastically.
"Now that you mention it, I remember—aren't they the ones who fed the fishes over by Port French Fries?"
"And in Golden Gallon Port, when the Burning Corps retaliated and drowned them in the Everflowing River."
"Haha, drowning in the river is old news! I heard that after being trained by MacLaren, that army produced quite a few distinguished officers."
"MacLaren..."
"Isn't he still a loser who got beaten by us?"
"Hahaha!"
The tavern was filled with merriment, laughter echoing across the bar.
Word was that MacLaren had helped the Xilan Empire quite a bit, but after turmoil broke out in the empire, he had gone quiet, leaving people to wonder what mischief he was brewing.
Then again, maybe after being reformed by the Alliance, he had turned over a new leaf.
As for that fellow Grove, nobody gave him a second thought.
That was only natural, of course.
To survivors living in Jinchuan Province, the second-in-command of some army in Brahma Province thousands of kilometers away was nothing more than a nobody.
To make them remember someone, that person would need at least a nine-figure bank account or an earth-shattering achievement.
Appearing on Dawn City News once? They'd probably forget the name in a couple of days...
The television moved on to other news items, spending quite a bit of time on a proposal submitted by Settlement No. 1 to establish an Immigration Bureau.
This was perhaps the most controversial topic in the Alliance recently.
Although the proposal was criticized by radicals and "supervised persons," it received widespread support from conservatives and Alliance citizens.
After all, from a practical standpoint, who wouldn't want their citizenship to be worth more?
Not to mention the series of unpleasant incidents that had occurred earlier.
Currently, the Alliance Representative Council had officially received the application submitted by the local representative council of Settlement No. 1 and had initiated an open hearing on whether the proposal was unconstitutional.
However, the local representative council of Settlement No. 1 had clearly prepared thoroughly; they were unlikely to slip up on such technicalities.
The proposal would likely proceed to a vote soon, and its passage was almost a foregone conclusion.
After all, the representative who put forward this proposal was reportedly a radical.
It seemed tightening immigration management had quietly become a consensus between radicals and conservatives.
While the patrons in the tavern moved on to other topics, the mercenary seated at the bar still couldn't take his mind off the earlier news about the State of Brahma.
The war there was getting more and more intense, and he couldn't help entertaining thoughts of heading over to make some coin.
Not that he was after the bounty—he wanted silver coins, not dinars, and explaining the source of such wealth would be a hassle anyway.
He was mainly thinking that with the combat prosthetics on his body, earning money in the eastern region of the Central Continent was getting harder and harder; he might as well seek new employment in Brahma Province.
Taking a gulp of beer, the mercenary muttered,
"Still, to think the Legion's highest bounty target is actually a Brahma local."
"His name is Ishel, right? Word has it he gave the Southern Legion quite a beating in the three northern states," the drunk beside him laughed, seemingly proud of his own good memory.
Another patron chimed in with a grin,
"It's a deck issued by the Southern Legion's Brahma Province theater, after all. If they don't print a Brahma's face, what are they gonna do, print yours?"
The mercenary asked on a sudden whim,
"Speaking of which, who has the highest bounty from the entire Southern Legion?"
"I heard it's our Administrator."
The patrons glanced at one another, falling silent. Only after a good while did someone sigh and exclaim,
"..."
"Dammit, those Wilante sure are daydreaming."
"Dream on! If they want to touch that lord, they'll have to step over my dead body first!"
"Hey, if that day ever came, do you think it'd be your turn to act tough?"
Perhaps Chu Guang himself didn't clearly recall all those trivial details anymore, but every single person here remembered how he had once swung his hammer and smashed a monster of the Church of the Torch into paste, leading the residents of Shelter 404 to charge fearlessly into the plague-corroded land.
Of course there was an element of exaggeration, but it wasn't far from the truth.
Perhaps it was precisely because of this fame, grown ever more legendary with each retelling, that despite the sizable number of Wilante within the Alliance, not a single one dared eye that nine-figure bounty.
Then again, maybe it was for other reasons.
That esteemed Administrator truly kept the wastelanders in his heart.
Whether they were wastelanders of the Eastern Provinces or Wilante from distant worlds...
At least the people united around him stood together for the very same purpose.
Chapter 914