This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 468: Are You Looking for This?

Chapter 468: Chapter 468: Are You Looking for This?

Yote had no doubts.

Even the Claw of Death, which sent countless Wasteland Wanderers scurrying in fear, would have to make a detour when faced with the sweeping fire of four-barreled 10mm machine guns.

However—

When one Quadruple Anti-aircraft Gun was up against "thousands upon thousands" of Claws of Death, the situation was entirely reversed.

"Ah ah ah!!!"

The soldier crouched behind the Anti-aircraft cannon was clutching the trigger tightly, releasing streams of orange tracer fire down towards the foot of the mountain, trying to stop the horde of beasts from reaching the summit.

However, against the tide-like surge of Claws of Death, the tongues of flame from the gun’s muzzle flickered like candles in the darkness.

As if they could vanish into the soundless storm at any moment.

And that’s exactly what happened—

The roar of the machine guns didn’t even last two seconds before a drone folded its wings and suddenly descended from the sky.

The three soldiers guarding the Anti-aircraft cannon had no time to react before the booming blaze consumed them, along with the Anti-aircraft gun itself.

The fiery explosion bloomed on the high ground.

Witnessing the machine gun now a twisted pile of steel, the soldiers in the adjacent trenches became dumbfounded, and a wave of fear rose from the bottom of their hearts.

"What the hell is that?!" a Centurion exclaimed, swinging his gun barrel back and forth across the sky.

"Suicide drones!" Yote’s eyes filled with bloodshot rage as he barked an order, "Watch out for those buzzing things! Don’t let them get close to the Anti-aircraft guns!"

The remaining three Quadruple Anti-aircraft Guns began spraying the skies, attempting to knock down the swooping drones.

However, this erratic and undisciplined firing was clearly futile against drones operated by "Immersive Operation" from Intelligence System players.

Soon, two more Anti-aircraft guns were destroyed, and only the last one remained on the entire high ground.

While Yote was unsure what to do, Centurion Simond next to him bellowed an order to his subordinates.

"Use EMP grenades!"

Yote was taken aback and blurted out.

"But our radar—"

"Screw that!" Simond shoved him aside and yelled toward the mortar position, "Hurry!"

Following the commander’s order, a Centurion had already dashed to the edge of the mortar position, quickly pulling out a blue-marked shell from a box.

He struck the bottom of the shell hard against the ground, then heaved it into the air before lying flat on the ground.

The whole sequence was smooth and seamless.

Dust from the explosion surged upward as shrapnels whizzed between sandbags.

The energy released by the Dynamite was converted into a microwave device, creating a pulse microwave with peak power in the gigawatts!

A brief buzzing pierced the entire Battlefield, generating transient voltages of tens or even hundreds of thousands of volts on the surfaces of myriad protected and unprotected conductors.

A tiny Flame sprouted from the central power distribution box in the camp, followed by the entire high ground plunging into darkness, quickly relit by flares.

At the same time, several quadrotor drones, still unexploded and now close to the ground, fell like dumplings onto the earth.

Insulation layers were breached, fuses were burnt out, radar screens went dead, electronic components fried, and electronic System storage melted down... all in an instant.

The Battlefield was instantly thrown back from the post-Cold War era to World War II or even World War I; all communication Device had failed, and contact was made purely by shouting.

meters away in a depression, Big Eyes rolled his eyes so hard he almost lost it and grumbled as he took off the headset from his head.

"Damn it! These guys play dirty!"

He looked toward his VM.

It now displayed a snowy white screen.

Although the "Vital Signs Monitor" had some resistance to EMP, that was only for wide-area EMP weapons and the incidental EMP damage from nuclear explosions.

For this kind of close-range electromagnetic pulse, the pressure was still considerable.

At the very least, the fuses were not going to be saved.

A newbie from the Intelligence System slapped his VM confusedly and saw the screen completely frozen; he grumbled.

"Fuck... How did it even take out my system interface!"

"Must be an EMP, just change the fuse, and it’ll be fine!" Big Eyes took off the VM and threw it on the ground, "Get ready to charge!"

"Are we from the Intelligence System charging too?" The newbie asked, puzzled.

"Don’t be stupid," Big Eyes rolled his eyes at him and picked up the rifle from the ground, "Does a Summoner sit out of the fight just because they’re out of mana? Brothers, charge with me!"

"Arrr Arrr Arrr!"

Seeing the leader go for it, several players from the Intelligence System also picked up their rifles, recalling the posture they’d learned from the Pangolin, and charged toward the No. 330 high ground.

Due to the failure of communication devices, the battlefield was in chaos, filled with nothing but shouting, endless gunshots, and the roaring of explosions.

Apart from a few drone operators, the Wolf Cavalry Troops were undeniably the ones most affected by the EMP, as the Neural Connection Equipment installed on the napes of the Claw of Death received serious damage.

However, only part of them was affected.

Most of the Claw of Death had been tamed by players, and even without the interference of Neural Connection Devices, those accustomed to obedience could still carry out their masters’ commands.

But among them, there were some that lost control due to injury or being provoked into aggression.

In case of loss of control, to avoid triggering a chain reaction, even if reluctantly, the players could only put down their own mounts in pain.

"The high ground is right in front of us!"

"Chaaaarge!!!"

Tearing off the malfunctioning headset, Edge Shoveling took out his whistle and put it to his mouth, blowing with all his might.

The piercing whistle blast rang across the entire position, igniting the fiery passion in everyone’s hearts.

"Kill them!"

"For the Alliance!!!"

The steep hundred-meter slope was crossed in the blink of an eye.

Urging his mount forward, Edge Shoveling clung to the back of the Claw of Death, leading the charge at the front. He aimed for the trench closest to the slope and threw the wooden-handled grenade he had prepared earlier towards the opposition’s position.

"Throw grenades!"

Hearing the command to throw grenades, the Wolf Cavalry in front threw their grenades, some even drawing "Whirlwind" grenade launchers.

The weapon was a product of Goblin Technology, modeled after the design of an MGL grenade launcher’s cylinder, emptying six grenades in three seconds, unleashing a wave of mid-range suppressing firepower.

The blaze from the explosions lit up the trenches.

A dozen or so Weilante Soldiers were blown up on the spot, and one left in panic tried to retreat to the rear defense line. However, before he could crawl out of the half-dug trench, his skull was cracked open by the Engineer Shovel of the charging Wolf Cavalry.

Watching the Claws of Death surging up from the southwest side to their position, the Weilante People soldiers hiding in the trenches all widened their eyes in disbelief.

"What kind of monster is that?!"

"It’s the Claw of Death! The Claws of Death!"

Those devils that dwell in swamps or rainforests...

Never in their wildest dreams did they imagine they would encounter them in the desert, let alone fathom that these apex predators of the food chain could be tamed by Barbarians as mounts!

But at this moment, there was no time left for them to ponder, as the glaring bayonets and the flashing gunfire were already smashing into their faces!

A ten-soldier team was instantly overwhelmed beneath the iron hooves of the Wolf Cavalry.

Then an entire trench line followed!

These monsters, fiercely charging across the battlefield, completely ignored the geography, acting like breastplate cavalry scaling walls – with every swipe of their claws, they took away one more living soul.

With the protection of their exoskeletons, killing them seemed as difficult as ascending to the heavens!

As the Wolf Cavalry stormed the position, the battle quickly shifted from mid-distance stalemate to close combat slaughter.

The force initially responsible for the feint attack also launched their charge towards the embattled position upon hearing the charging whistle.

Both sides were now so close they could see the nostrils of their adversaries, fighting for every trench, every rock, and even every sandbag bunker on the uneven terrain...

Tracer rounds, like sparks over a bonfire, scattered in the night sky without wind to guide them, and almost every extinguished spark carried a trace of scorched blood.

...

The darkness enshrouding No. 330 high ground was lit by flames of fire.

At the same time, in the northern night sky over the high ground, fifty Eagle Type fighter planes emerged beneath the cloud cover.

"No. 330 high ground is engaged in fierce battle, both sides have started melee combat, frontline troops are not responding to our signals..." Staring at the constantly battling position, Akant picked up the transceiver and reported the situation at the front through the onboard radio to the rear command.

He was the captain of Falcon Kingdom’s first flight squadron, and the mission given to him by the Navy Aviation command center was to lead the first flight squadron to provide air support for allied forces at No. 330 high ground.

No matter what, No. 330 high ground could not be lost!

Otherwise, the entire fourth ten thousand troops would be put at risk!

Akant was acutely aware of the importance of this mission, however, the position was in utter chaos, nothing could be clearly seen, and ground troops seemed deaf, unresponsive to his calls.

The command center also couldn’t reach those on the ground and could only order them to autonomously judge the situation and support their allies.

However—

Nothing could be seen in the pitch darkness, let alone provide support.

"Damn it..."

After disconnecting the comm, Akant was about to order a reduction in altitude when he suddenly spotted several faint dots appearing from beneath the cloud cover to the south.

Alliance planes!

Akant’s pupils constricted sharply.

The scene before him brought back memories of the fierce battle that erupted over the City of Abundance that day.

To be honest, the Alliance’s planes didn’t leave a very deep impression on him.

Although they were also propeller-driven, their maneuverability and shooting accuracy paled in comparison to the Eagle Type fighters provided by the Army.

If anything, those planes looked like they were cobbled together haphazardly – utterly worthless except for their cheapness.

However, the pilots flying those planes left a deep impression on him.

The Alliance’s pilots were like devils who weren’t afraid of death, willing to trade their lives for an enemy’s downfall.

But—

This time, the Iron Heart wouldn’t be there to provide them with cover!

Without the slightest hesitation, Akant switched the aircraft radio to the squadron frequency and ordered loudly into the intercom.

"There’s an enemy fleet to the south!"

"Prepare to intercept!"

They must not let these planes get close to No. 330 high ground!

Before supporting their allies, they needed to eliminate these nuisances!

Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the Falcon Kingdom’s First Flight Squadron.

Seeing the fleet heading straight towards him, Mosquito’s eyes showed no fear, but instead, they sparkled with excitement.

The army’s "Peidao" fighters had taken a spin around the Steel Heart and returned to base, with neither side able to gain an upper hand over the other.

The cautious Manager deliberately waited for the enemy to move away, almost depleting their fuel, before allowing the airship’s aircraft to take off.

Mosquito thought this escort mission was going to be boring since the Corps’ mobile radar stations deployed at Oasis No. 3 couldn’t possibly detect them beyond visual range.

However—

Dog plan had indeed not disappointed him!

At the same time as pushing the afterburner, Mosquito grabbed the intercom, excitedly shouting.

"All squads, enemy fighters spotted to the north! Squad A continues the escort mission! Squad B, follow me! Brothers, charge at them!"

Responses from the leaders of each squadron soon came through the communication channel.

"Roger!"

Forty W-2 "Mosquito-style" attack planes immediately broke away from the formation, fearlessly charging towards the Falcon Kingdom’s First Flight Squadron.

Both sides were like gun cavalry with raised lances, each precisely aiming at the other’s vital points, with no one backing down or avoiding collision.

At this moment, anyone who chickened out or even hesitated for an instant, causing their hand on the joystick to shift—

It was like throwing their tail to the opponent for biting!

Approaching effective firing range.

The two sides almost simultaneously pulled the trigger to fire!

The intense, zipping gunfire stirred the originally gentle evening breeze, as streaks of tracer fire filled the night sky, shattering the silence of the night.

In an instant, smoke, and even flames, billowed from over a dozen planes, and the lined-up shootout quickly evolved into a frantic pursuit and twist of dogfights.

For a while, the sky rained with burning iron as the battle seemed to stretch from the ground into the heavens.

The forty separated W-2 "Mosquito-style" quickly suffered over fifty percent casualties; however, the Falcon Kingdom’s First Flight Squadron didn’t fare any better, with fifteen out of fifty "Eagle Type" planes forcefully taken down.

Looking at the more than a dozen bullet holes in his wings and canopy, Akant clenched his teeth determinedly, using all his strength to pull the uncontrollable nose back up.

He glanced back at the night sky, about to seek out his next target when he suddenly sensed something off about the continuously advancing flying formation.

The enemy hadn’t sent all their planes; some had already flown past them, continuing north.

Was their target not No. 330 high ground?

"Something’s not right... there’s something off about these planes."

Akant furrowed his brow, barely making out a few planes protected in the center of the formation with the help of moonlight piercing through the thin clouds.

That silhouette...

Is it a transport plane?!

Startled, a look of horror quickly spread across his face.

Without any hesitation, he grabbed the walkie-talkie and bellowed.

"Report to the command center! Enemy transport planes spotted!"

"...The enemy squadron has already crossed No. 330 high ground and is heading towards the headquarters of the Fourth Ten thousand troops!"

He then switched to the squadron channel, barking orders angrily.

"The enemy transport planes are breaching our defense zone!"

"Stop them!"

They had probably finally realized something.

The Falcon Kingdom’s flight squadron suddenly abandoned their entanglement with the Goblin Corps and madly chased after the Alliance’s fleet of transport planes.

But obviously, it was all too late.

At Mosquito’s command, Escort Squadron B changed course and charged toward the pursuing "Eagle Type" fighter planes.

Simultaneously, one by one, the transport planes leveled out and opened their cargo doors.

Red warning bells rang out, and players in exoskeleton suits got up from the seats on both sides of the cabin, with parachutes on their backs, and formed orderly lines at the cabin doors.

The airflow swirling into the cabin whipped their sharply defined armor into a howling buzz, while outside, the cabin was flickering with machine gun fire and thick tracer lines.

Not a sign of fear could be seen in their eyes.

Only burning fighting spirit!

This was their stage.

Standing at the cabin door, Old White, clad in "Dragon Cavalry" power armor, shouted in a loud voice over the comm channel.

"Pay attention to your maps, watch your step!"

"Our target is the headquarters of the Fourth Ten thousand troops, remember not to get hung up on anti-aircraft cannons, and don’t step on the heads of our brothers in the Death Legion!"

"Once we’ve dealt with the nuisances under our feet, we’ll go help them!"

"Jump—!"

His crisp shout blended with the howling evening wind, and Old White took the lead in stepping out of the cabin, leading a squad of heavily-armed teammates into the hail of bullets.

Compared to the evening they had landed on the Iron Heart—

This firepower was nothing.

Parachutes blossomed in the sky like dandelion seeds adrift in fire, descending toward the ground under the cover of night.

Below them, the dimly lit camp seemed like a lighthouse in a storm, guiding their way.

Sensing the situation above,

The last remaining Anti-aircraft cannon on No. 330 high ground attempted to fire at the Burning Corps, but just two seconds into its fire, it was sent off by an approaching Wolf Cavalry’s grenade launcher.

At the same time, hundreds of kilometers away in the sky, a jet plane was racing towards them.

The model of the plane was the "Peidao" that had returned earlier.

Just refueled at the frontline airfield, Yukar had barely stepped out of the cockpit before he received orders to take off again.

Looking at the sparse twinkle of firelights in the distant night sky, Yukar sat in the cabin, the corner of his mouth twisting into a cold smirk.

Propeller planes...

Such slow-moving things like mosquitoes, he would consider it a waste of ammunition to press the machine gun trigger for an extra 0.1 second!

Too bad he didn’t see the Flapping Machines.

Those five little flies had just shown their faces during the daytime and then immediately hid back into the airship.

But it didn’t matter anymore.

No matter what the Alliance pilots flew, he would make them learn by heart how to spell the word "death" with their bodies!

Yukar calmed down and pushed the throttle forward, the flames spurting from the engine at the rear suddenly enlarged, and the speed quickly broke Mach three, racing towards the battlefield a hundred kilometers away.

However, in that instant, a sudden premonition of danger rose in Yukar’s heart. He instinctively tilted the control stick.

A flame flickered briefly below the clouds; he had not even gotten a clear look at what the plane looked like when the sound of breaking the sound barrier nearly ruptured his eardrums.

So fast!

With his heart racing, Yukar glanced at the unresponsive onboard radar, then abruptly looked back, but there was nothing to see.

In the blink of an eye, a plane had zipped past close beside him, the compressed air from its wing yanking him violently to the left and almost shattering his canopy!

That speed must have been at least Mach 3!

A relative speed of Mach 6—that’s two kilometers in one second!

He was certain that the other had just tried to take him out in a suicide run. And to avoid exposing the target early, he didn’t even open fire!

What kind of tactic was this?!

"Has this guy... gone fucking insane!"

There was no doubt the plane opposite him was also a jet.

Through the canopy glass, he could barely see elusive blue flames below the clouds—those were engine afterburners!

Suppressing his turbulent heartbeat, Yukar banked the stick to the right, trying to make out the position of the fighter plane while attempting to cut to the enemy’s rear hemisphere from the right.

But his opponent was obviously experienced!

As he executed a high-G turn maneuver, the other pilot reacted almost simultaneously, pulling up the nose toward him while opening the airbrake for a sharp defensive turn, cutting inside him at a lower speed.

"Buzz—!"

Machine gunfire whizzed past, nearly grazing his wingtip. Hearing the distantly fired machine guns, a cold sweat broke out on Yukar’s back.

"Shit!"

He had been so close...

His ride was nearly turned into a pile of scrap metal!

In these eight years, the opponents he had encountered were mostly propeller planes.

Even if he occasionally encountered some oddities burning coal or oil, he rarely saw supersonic jets that could break the sound barrier.

He felt that the performance of that plane was not outstanding; whether it was maneuverability or maximum speed, he had the upper hand.

But his query would have to wait, as the fierce dogfight demanded every ounce of his focus.

However—

The enemy pilot made up for that weakness with superb flying skills, latching onto a momentary lapse in his defenses.

Unlike himself, who routinely preyed on natives for air strikes, that man clearly knew how to handle an opponent with superior maneuverability.

Unexpectedly finding an equal adversary in this desolate desert, Yukar couldn’t help but feel a surge of fervent fighting spirit.

"Come on! Let’s see what you’ve got!"

He muttered, pulling back the throttle and deploying the airbrakes, while yanking the control stick in opposite directions, ready to snap behind the enemy aircraft.

The Falcon Kingdom’s flying squadron had to rely on themselves now.

Hopefully they could pull their weight...

Simultaneously, Falling Feather, piloting the "Soaring Clouds" fighter, clicked his tongue.

"10G acceleration... Is this guy an Awakener too?

Not just the pilot...

That plane’s performance is ridiculously off the charts!

Considering the huge performance gap, he didn’t stand much of a chance in a dogfight. His plan was to attempt an even trade-off by taking down the drastically costlier opposition.

But unexpectedly, his opponent evaded the "Brutal Flying Brick" move he threw at them!

What’s more, even while saddled with two TV missiles and having his aft hemisphere bitten into by Falling Feather, the enemy pilot dodged a barrage of cannon fire unleashed by his Talent with an abrupt turn!

With that kind of maneuverability, it might outperform even an F-22 in real life.

But such a powerful aircraft paired with such a crappy onboard radar and stealth materials, even unable to fire an air-to-air missile, is downright ridiculous.

Watching his opponent completely abandon the fantasy of supporting allied fighters and turning the nose to deal with himself, Falling Feather took a deep breath, his chest alight with the flames of combat.

Perfect timing!

Clenching the control stick firmly in his hands, he fixed his gaze on the fleeting black dot outside the cockpit canopy, squeezing out half a sentence between clenched teeth.

"Face me— you brat!"

...

Two jet fighters entered a horizontal dogfight, cutting scissor-shaped trajectories through the sky with their engines, as their cannons gnashed at each other, vying for control of the enemy’s rear hemisphere.

Not far off,

the Alliance’s fleet of fighters had yet to determine a victor against the Falcon Kingdom’s, with over a dozen fighters still engaged in fierce combat.

No. 330 high ground had turned into a bloody meat grinder, with the Wolf Cavalry recklessly charging and cutting down fleeing foot soldiers.

Although Simond still led the direct Thousands of the Fourth Ten Thousand Troops with stubborn resistance, the scales of victory were clearly tipping in the Alliance’s favor, having awaited air force reinforcements in vain.

And yet, the Alliance seemed unsatisfied with the three battles underway and had promptly opened a fourth front that evening!

The night sky, lit up by tracer rounds, was filled with parachutes descending from above, emblazoning every pair of eyes on the ground.

The guards stationed in the camp lifted their rifles, firing at the sky; however, against the dark night and the gliding parachutes, their shots were ineffective, hardly able to penetrate the armor of the exoskeleton even if they did make a lucky hit.

The distance of several hundred meters was crossed in a flash.

A power armor, sporting three parachutes, was the first to land in the center of the camp.

The soldier, seemingly unfazed by the hail of gunfire, expertly sliced off the parachute cords with a battle knife and smoothly fetched a light machine gun strapped to the armor, opening fire on the camp with a relentless burst of gunfire.

"If you don’t want to die, get down!" As he unleashed a barrage of bullets, he pushed forward with a loudspeaker blaring.

With the deployment of the power armor complete, hundreds of soldiers clad in exoskeletons followed, landing in various parts of the camp.

Besides, along with these airborne troops, more than fifty Y-2 "Butterfly Knife" quadrotor drones, each hanging a barrel of guns, descended as well.

The guard team, who hardly had the chance to make it to the front line, stood no chance against these monsters; they were almost completely routed upon the first contact.

Standing at the entrance of the tent, General Soffet stared blankly into the tumult of gunfire in the camp.

Airborne troops...

The elite forces of the Alliance...

That momentary daze flickered through his murky pupils before quickly turning into deep despair.

There were only six hundred-man teams in the entire camp.

And within these six hundred-man teams, more than half were logistics units like communications, transport, and engineers; the only ones with real combat power were probably a guard team and an officers’ team.

Neither the guard team nor the officers’ team was a direct combat unit; how could they possibly stand a chance against the Alliance’s elite forces?

What could he defend with?!

Shoulders and lips shaking uncontrollably, Soffet’s aged face turned a bright red, he clenched his fists tightly, and finally, unable to contain his emotions, he burst into a curse.

"...That damned skunk!"

If it weren’t for that skunk’s overstepping commands, drawing away his direct thousand team, how would he have ended up like this?!

"That idiot must take full responsibility for this battle! When I get back to Triumph City... I’ll make sure to report him to the Legion Leader!"

Looking at General Soffet, who was puffing his beard and glaring, the adjutant beside him was so anxious he didn’t even know where his cap had gone; he grabbed Soffet’s arm, pleading.

"General, this is not the time to say this! The Alliance has dropped at least five hundred—no, more than a thousand people here; we need to retreat fast!"

Soffet’s face stiffened, his Adam’s apple moved.

Though reluctant to abandon his men and flee alone, he knew very well that if he fell into the hands of the Alliance, things would only get worse.

Listening to the resounding gunfire throughout the camp, he lowered his trembling voice.

"Are the maps and documents... burned?"

The adjutant nodded hurriedly.

"All burned! I even blew up the table at the radio!"

"Good... I’ll remember this grudge, and I’ll avenge it someday!" Grinding out a sentence between clenched teeth, Soffet turned his head to look at his adjutant, "Let’s retreat!"

"Follow me!"

Running along with Soffet, the adjutant quickly hopped into the jeep parked at the entrance of the barracks; however, just as he was about to start it, he couldn’t find the keys.

"The keys... strange, where are the keys?"

Soffet glared wide-eyed at the adjutant sitting in the driver’s seat, about to call him an idiot, when a soft cough suddenly came from behind the two.

Both quickly turned their heads to look behind the jeep.

They saw a soldier wearing an exoskeleton standing by the roadside.

A sniper rifle was propped on his right shoulder, and in his left hand, he tosseed a bunch of keys, grinning cheekily as he looked towards the two men in the jeep.

There was a hint of mockery in his broken United Human language.

"Are you looking for this?"

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