This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 488: This is the Answer to the Ultimatum

Chapter 488: Chapter 488: This is the Answer to the Ultimatum

Falcon City.

The once bustling streets were now eerily quiet.

Apart from a few major roads leading to the Royal Palace and the barracks that remained unobstructed, the rest of the streets and alleys were littered with obstacles and shelters.

Several laborers energetically fixed steel bars cast from scrap iron into triangular-shaped tank stoppers with rivets, their tenth one for the day.

The officer in charge of the labor crew had told them that this could withstand the tanks of the Alliance.

However, almost everyone felt it was a wasted effort.

If even the river embankments couldn’t stop the treads of the Alliance tanks, what use was there for these hastily assembled anti-tank barricades?

They could easily crash into the houses on both sides of the streets and simply bypass them.

"I heard Bister Town has fallen."

A man with his upper body bare wiped sweat off his brow, his sun-darkened arm resting on the newly assembled anti-tank stopper.

Hearing this, the laborers nearby looked over, and an old man around fifty muttered doubtfully,

"Is that true?"

The man said with certainty,

"Absolutely true! Yesterday, I was working outside the city, and I saw a troop retreating from the direction of Bister Town..."

Regardless of their concern for the war’s progress, the residents of Falcon City were familiar with that fortress-like settlement.

Before the Weilante people arrived, the economically weak had never attempted to build a fortress in the desert.

It was for this reason that the Falcon Royal Family often touted the fortress in the desert to publicize the brilliance of allying with the Army, showing off the Army’s advanced construction techniques and the friendship between the Falcon Kingdom and the Army...

Indeed, until half a month ago, Bister Town had played the role of a frontline logistical hub.

Nobody could believe that such an impregnable fortress had fallen so easily...

"Bister... even that has fallen."

"Are the people of the Alliance coming to kill us?"

"I heard that the Alliance is all Wasteland Wanderers who are barbaric and born in poverty-stricken abandoned lands... God knows what those barbarians will do to His Majesty’s palace once they arrive."

The people whispered among themselves.

A boy with a wax-red sunburned face asked nervously,

"The Army, what about the Army?"

He felt secure because of the tall figures of the Weilante People.

The radio had announced that reinforcements from the west would arrive soon, and they just had to hold on a little longer, then the Alliance would quickly be overwhelmed by thousands of tanks.

Yet, the adults seemed not to believe that.

The dark-skinned man shook his head.

"The Weilante People are reorganizing the third line of defense, but it seems unlikely... Less than half have returned from Oasis No. 3. This war, I think, is nearly over."

Hearing this, the old man nearby was so frightened that he quickly covered his mouth,

"Shh! Shut your mouth, watch out, or the patrolling guards might hear!"

A resident wrapped in a headscarf said angrily,

"Rumors! Definitely rumors!"

This statement was quickly echoed.

"Exactly! His Majesty is a chosen warrior, how could he lose!"

The dark-skinned man seemed to realize his slip of the tongue and quickly corrected himself,

"When I said it’s ending, I didn’t say we lost... What I mean is that the Alliance is about to be doomed, and of course, our wise and valiant Majesty will win in the end."

However, even the most devout did not believe this statement.

At that moment, patrolling guards approached from a distance, and everyone quickly stopped talking and returned to their tasks.

"...Is there even any need for patrols? There seem to be hardly any people left in the city," a guard carrying a rifle yawned, glancing over the laborers who diligently returned to their work.

These days were undoubtedly the most peaceful days in Falcon City.

No thieves.

No robbers.

Not even pedestrians.

Everyman from twelve to forty-six years old, everyone who could handle a weapon, had either been sent to the barracks or to the labor camps.

Apart from His Majesty’s palace, it was hard to find anyone idle in the entire Falcon City.

"Patrolling isn’t about catching criminals, it’s about looking for anyone who has slipped through," the slightly older guard scanned a small alley at the street corner, intending to check it out.

Just then, a shrill alarm sounded from afar.

"Damn! An air raid?!"

It wasn’t just his face that paled; the laborers who were working on the shelters in the street also dropped their tools and ran into the nearby alleyways seeking shelter.

They had heard that the Alliance’s aircraft were tricky, like sparrows that Weilante radar simply "couldn’t catch." Often, just after the air raid siren sounded, bombs would immediately follow.

But this time was somewhat anomalous.

After a long wait, no explosions were heard.

Not even an airplane was seen.

Feeling something unusual, the older guard furrowed his brow.

A dud bomb?

Just as he was thinking this, white papers suddenly floated down from the sky.

"What is that?"

The young guard curiously reached out his hand, catching a descending piece of paper and unfolded it to look.

What he saw almost stopped his breath.

[Warning to the Falcon Kingdom Royal Family! Our forces will carry out a strategic bombing on Falcon City Palace, military camps, and other facilities on the last day of this week. Surrender is your only way out; any defiance will only lead to your annihilation!]

[Note 1: Please, city residents, leave the combat zone, or if you cannot leave, stay in your homes to avoid being injured by stray bullets or shrapnel.]

[Note 2: All combat units of the Army and Falcon Kingdom soldiers and officers, surrender with this flyer at the Alliance station to avoid imprisonment.]

[Note 3: (Emergency Air Raid Shelter Guide), (Safe Area Locations)]

The Alliance...

Have they already come here?

Why was it never mentioned on the radio?

Panic rose in his eyes as he looked up at his senior officer, only to see the officer staring at the flyer in his hand, who quickly discarded it as if electrocuted.

"Re, report to the officer, I absolutely didn’t mean that—"

"Shut up."

The older guard glanced left and right, seeing that no one was paying attention, he walked over and picked up the flyer the young man had thrown down.

"We need to collect these and destroy them... you’re in charge of that side," he pointed to the nearby alley, "Go on."

The young guard sighed in relief and nodded timidly before quickly jogging towards the alley.

The older guard looked at the flyer in his hand, his gaze lingering on the map of the safety zone marked on it. He memorized its location and then folded the flyer to the size of a thumb and tucked it into his boot.

Hiding flyers dropped by the enemy was a serious crime.

Yet, he impulsively did it anyway.

Although his superiors had constantly brainwashed them, proclaiming that the Falcon Kingdom’s Army under the leadership of Prince William was advancing triumphantly, sweeping through the Lion Kingdom and Camel Hump Kingdom, such nonsense was rarely believed anymore.

Soldiers returning from the east all had faces filled with terror and their pupils were dilated and lifeless...

That was not the look of victors.

Not far from him, the dark-skinned laborer and the man in his fifties also carefully hid their flyers.

The two exchanged glances, an understanding unspoken between them.

Even if not for themselves,

It was for their defenseless families.

Amid the piercing sound of the air raid siren, similar scenes unfolded throughout the city...

At the same time, in the palace of the Falcon Royal Family.

Unlike the chaos on the streets, it was unusually quiet here.

On the luxurious throne, the aging King Montegarde stared expressionlessly at the neatly written list in his hands.

This was a list sent by the temporary tribunal, detailing the next batch of people to be executed.

When the war was going well, there were usually only one or two names on the list, but when the battle turned dire, sometimes the names couldn’t even fit on one sheet.

Among those to be executed,

Some were spies, some were deserters, others were rebels who questioned the royal decisions, or simply dissidents thrown in by political enemies amidst the chaos.

King Montegarde was well aware that many on this list were wrongfully accused, but he had no intent to concern himself with such trivial matters anymore.

He impatiently signed the list and tossed it to the nearby Guards’ captain.

"Take this to Count Krunwi."

Count Krunwi was the court-appointed head of the temporary tribunal, whose authority overshadowed both the military and civil courts, dealing specifically with traitors.

"Yes."

The Guards’ captain solemnly bowed and took the list with both hands.

Montegarde suddenly noticed the hands extended towards him were trembling slightly.

He looked up at the Guards’ captain, his dry lips slowly parting as he called out the man’s name.

"Middel."

The Guards’ captain’s shoulders twitched, and he spoke softly.

"What is it... Your Majesty."

"You are afraid."

"I’m not."

Watching his confidant kneel with a thud, Montegarde’s murky eyes suddenly softened, and he placed his right hand gently on his shoulder.

"Don’t worry, the people of Vellante have promised me... and it was General Griffin himself who made that promise, he will bring us victory."

Not just General Griffin’s promise.

His own son, William, was also an exemplary Marshal.

He had been preparing for this war for decades, for the future of his people, to fulfill the longstanding wish of his ancestors...

He held a full hand of cards; there was no reason he would lose.

Middel looked down, his Adam’s apple moving nervously, wanting to say something but fearing to, a bitter smile squeezing through his shadow-concealed face.

He knew very well.

The king in front of him had gone mad.

And not just the king...

Everyone here had gone mad.

Including himself.

"Yes..." Middel respectfully replied.

Just then, rapid footsteps came from outside the court, and an officer sprinted in, kneeling on one knee and quickly reporting.

"Reporting, Your Majesty! The Alliance has airdropped flyers into our city! They claim that on the last day of this week, they will conduct an air raid—"

"How could Alliance planes possibly reach us here!"

King Montegarde interrupted him with an unequivocal voice, then said nonchalantly,

"Let me see it."

"Yes!"

The anxious officer stood up, took two steps forward, and handed the crumpled flyer to the Guards’ captain, who passed it on to King Montegarde.

Montegarde simply scanned the flyer, snorted lightly through his nose, and a touch of a cold smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

"...Utterly arrogant."

With that, he crumpled the flyer into a ball and threw it away.

Two months earlier, the letter from William said that the City of Abundance of the Lion Kingdom was still under their siege. Even if the front lines had minor setbacks, the war had not yet reached the Royal City.

"The city defense officer suggests you retreat to the bunker..." Seeing the king’s indifference, the officer, sweating profusely, tried to persuade him to seek shelter.

However, he was ruthlessly interrupted before he could finish.

"I am going nowhere."

Gazing down at the kneeling officer, Montegarde clenched his fists, a flash of madness crossing his murky eyes.

"I want to see how Alliance planes could possibly bypass the thousands of troops under my command!"

...

Bister Fortress.

Looking at the row of bodies hanging under a telephone pole, Gnome King Riches had a somewhat conflicted expression and finally managed to utter a comment.

"These guys are truly brutal when dealing with their own."

Elena said with a subtle expression,

"That’s all too common."

Even the Vellante people might not be considered "one of their own" to Griffin, let alone these attendants whose status was barely above that of cannon fodder.

Temporary victories masked a series of inequalities, and conquests of the Honey Badger Kingdom and Lion Kingdom briefly restored the confidence of those slaves.

But when victory could no longer be sustained, all the previously hidden issues surged out like pus under a festering sore.

This Kingdom had gone mad...

From the king to the commoners.

Fortunately, this was already the last madness.

At the eastern gate of Bister Fortress, trucks were driving in, large quantities of building materials were being sent here via Oasis No.3.

According to the Manager’s orders.

They were to fortify Bister Town, completely transforming this supply hub fortress into an offensive fortress, and deploying at least 100 155mm cannons along a 5-kilometer-wide frontline, bringing the borders of Falcon Kingdom within artillery range.

Moreover, large and small construction devices imported from Ideal City were also delivered here, including excavators and road rollers, among others.

According to the Alliance, not only a road from Oasis No.3 to Bister Town was to be built, but an airport was also to be constructed on the east side of this attacking fortress.

Army camp entrance.

Weddell, with a pleasing smile on his face, walked up to the Mole and respectfully handed over the notebook in his hand.

"Sir, here is what you requested."

The notebook meticulously recorded the movements of every army unit that had passed through, including their serial numbers, personnel, supplies, and destinations.

He had racked his brains all morning to organize it.

Mole briefly glanced over it and made a simple comparison with the intelligence he had amassed from Weddell’s deputies.

After confirming there were no issues, he nodded his head.

"Well done, you are free."

Weddell stood still.

Mole looked at him and raised his eyebrows slightly.

"Did you not understand what I said?"

Weddell hurriedly explained.

"No, not at all, sir... I only wish to stay and serve you."

"Serve me?" Mole curiously looked at this man, wondering what act he was playing now.

Seeing the inquiring look from the army commander, Weddell quickly nodded and said righteously, "Yes, sir! The people of Weilante have held our king hostage and taken control of our country, committing atrocious crimes in this desert... Although I am humble, I wish to stand on the side of justice and conscience, contributing to the Alliance!"

He was no fool.

Falcon Kingdom was finished.

As a baron with neither high soar nor a humble plunge, and no blood relatives in other Kingdoms to rely on, he was destined for death no matter where he went, so it was better to hang around the Alliance than starve.

Not fond of this opportunist, Mole initially did not want to agree, but upon reconsideration, having an obedient local guide by his side seemed beneficial.

Although the subsequent tasks of the Skeleton Corps were mainly to feint and mislead, the Alliance, for strategic reasons, would not occupy Oasis No.2; however, Bister Fortress, this thorn in the belly of Oasis No.2, would remain.

After this war was over, there might pass many refugees from Oasis No.2 through here...

Thinking this, he nodded his head.

"Alright, you can stay then."

Upon hearing this, Weddell’s eyebrows perked up with joy, and had it not dawned on him that this whimsical lord disliked people kneeling, he would have knelt down right there to thank him for his rebirth.

The deputy by his side didn’t have his insight and, without thinking, plopped down on his knees.

"I also wish to follow the steps of the Alliance, to serve the Manager..."

"Stand up," Mole said, visibly frustrated, "don’t always kneel for every small matter; we don’t buy that."

The deputy, still not regaining his senses, was swiftly kicked in the backside by Weddell.

"Didn’t you hear! He told you to get up."

This kick carried a bit of personal anger.

He had not forgotten that these rascals had stripped him of his clothes to use as white flags.

"Yes! Yes!"

The deputy, looking aggrieved, thought that he was only following Weddell’s lead, but he did not dare to voice his thoughts, and quickly and reluctantly got up.

Fully embracing his new identity, Weddell didn’t consider himself an outsider at all and eagerly approached Mole.

"Sir, when do we set out to teach those big-noses a lesson? I’ve disliked them for a long time!"

Mole replied impatiently.

"We have our plans, if you can’t wait, go ahead and grab a gun and charge at them yourself."

Upon hearing this, Weddell’s enthusiasm was instantly doused like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over him, and he awkwardly chuckled and shut his mouth...

...

Although Weddell would have loved to lick his shoes, Mole did not completely trust this extravagant man.

After reporting to the Manager, Mole assigned this bootlicker the position of a foreman and threw him into the worksite on the eastern side of Bister Town.

It was unavoidable.

Seeing him everyday was too repulsive.

Even though he wished all his adversaries were such spineless creatures, warriors like Rachel were indeed more deserving of respect.

Unlike Mole’s disdain, Weddell was quite satisfied with this new job, even moved by it.

Better to be the captain of a labor squad than to be cannon fodder on the front lines.

It seemed the Alliance indeed treated their prisoners kindly as rumored.

Unfortunately, he was not Marshal William.

Otherwise, he would certainly lead the entire Falcon Kingdom army to surrender and put an end to this foolish and hopeless war.

...

On the third day into the construction crew.

Watching another convoy of trucks pass by a nearby outpost, the deputy standing next to Weddell muttered.

"Does the Alliance intend to stay here forever?"

In recent days, trucks had been continually arriving, and planes kept landing sporadically, unloading supplies sufficient for several ten thousand troops.

Yet, the Alliance army did not proceed any further.

Previously, his labor squad mates had speculated that the Alliance planned to catch the army off guard, but that was not the case.

Weddell too was puzzled.

However, being an honest and proper man, he knew better than to meddle in things he shouldn’t know.

He kicked the deputy’s backside and scolded him quietly.

"Stop fucking looking around and get back to work!"

The deputy immediately shut his mouth, giving a harsh glare but daring not to speak, and obediently returned to digging.

...

Not only Weddell and his "workmates" were puzzled by the actions of the Alliance.

So was General Griffin, the overall commander of the army stationed in Luo Xia Province.

Frowning intently as he stared at the map on the table, his face showed a clear confusion.

As he had anticipated, the Alliance had taken Bister Fortress.

However, what he couldn’t understand was why the Alliance armored forces, having already breached the gates of Oasis No. 2, had not advanced further as he had expected, but instead had stopped in place.

Not only that, according to reports from the front-line reconnaissance troops, a large number of trucks and engineering equipment were being moved into Bister Town, seemingly to reinforce the local infrastructure.

This further puzzled General Griffin.

Having reassembled his forces, he was prepared for a decisive battle to the death with the Alliance; he was even prepared to face death himself.

Yet, the Alliance, which had presented a blitzkrieg posture just a few days ago, suddenly ceased its attack.

This made him feel frustrated as if he had energy to spare but nowhere to use it.

What exactly were these guys up to?

"... According to information from the front-line scouts, aircraft have been frequently landing near Bister Town recently," said a staff officer standing next to the command table, unaware of Griffin’s internal plans.

"Tiger Whale?"

"Not only that... there have also been a number of propeller planes."

Griffin frowned.

"Does Bister Town have an airport?"

Could it have been recently constructed?

The requirements for propeller planes aren’t high, but hadn’t they modified the aircraft runway on the Iron Heart?

Why then build another airport at the front line...

This sudden caution always gave him a bad premonition, especially the intelligence about a large number of planes landing near Bister Town.

Although he was indifferent to whatever tactics the Alliance employed since he only needed to complete "that plan" by the end of the month, the ominous feeling persisted.

Just then, a messenger hurried in from outside.

"Report! News from the Royal City has arrived. The Alliance has air-dropped leaflets over the Royal City, proclaiming that they will carry out strategic bombing on Falcon City on the last day of this week!"

The last day of this week.

So, the day after tomorrow?

A realization struck Griffin; his pupils contracted slightly, and he swiftly glanced at the map, then quickly turned to the nearby staff officer.

"Which unit is nearest to Falcon City?"

That staff officer paused briefly, then immediately responded.

"It’s the Falcon Kingdom’s Second Ten Thousand Troops, retreating for rest... They’re about two days’ march from the Royal City."

For the looming decisive battle with the Alliance.

They had already concentrated all their forces on the border of Oasis No. 2, and what was left behind were just those battered attendant troops.

Griffin’s heart tightened, and he quickly ordered.

"Send them to Falcon City immediately! They must arrive within two days!"

Head to Falcon City?

The surrounding officers were stunned.

From the front lines to Falcon City was at least three hundred to four hundred kilometers.

They knew the Alliance paratroopers were strong; after all, General Soft from the Fourth Ten Thousand had fallen into the hands of the "Burning Corps."

But surely they wouldn’t use paratroopers for a siege?

The city defense forces and the Royal Guards stationed in Falcon City amounted to about five to six thousand troops, not to mention they were protected by riverbanks.

To conquer such a fortress...

How many aircraft would that require?

Moreover, given the paratroopers’ "logistical self-sustainability," operating hundreds of kilometers away from reinforcements and supply lines was akin to a suicide mission.

However, seeing Griffin’s grim expression, the nearby staff officer dared not ask further, just stood at attention and responded.

"Yes!"

Returning his gaze from the staff officer, Griffin looked back at the map. His fists clenched slowly then released, his face shifting between expressions of unease.

The Alliance was constructing a temporary airfield at the frontline and amassing a large number of aircraft from the rear... This clearly wasn’t for targeting something within twenty kilometers.

It was nearly an open declaration!

He didn’t understand why the Alliance would forgo the best option and instead opt for the riskiest plan. But years of military experience told him to be wary when the adversary made unexpected moves, as they might possess information they shouldn’t have.

"...the Royal City."

Mulling over this phrase, Griffin stared at the map, whispering quietly to himself.

"What exactly are you up to."

Simultaneously.

In the southeastern part of Oasis No. 2 in the desert.

After traveling hundreds of kilometers through the desolate area, the Iron Heart finally emerged from the howling winds and yellow sands.

Inside the bridge.

General McLennan was watching the man in power armor with a face flushed with anger, his eyes flickering with resentment, yet he dared not speak.

He never imagined that he would return to this airship in such a manner.

This reminded him of those humiliating memories...

Finod, standing in the corner, didn’t dare look at him and instead found a crack on the floor to fixate on, distracting himself.

Fortunately, General McLennan’s attention was not on him but on the man.

"What have you brought me here for?" Unable to contain his hatred any longer, McLennan gritted his teeth and said.

Without caring about his resentful gaze, Chu Guang replied in a relaxed tone.

"To invite you to watch the final Chapter."

"Ending?" McLennan paused briefly, then scoffed, "Isn’t it a bit early to be making big claims now?"

Watching his forced composure, Chu Guang teased.

"Cheer up, you’ll soon be reunited with your old friends."

"The Army will never surrender." McLennan stared at him intensely, "Never."

"Is that so?"

Chu Guang simply smiled lightly, ignoring McLennan’s weak attempt at defiance, turning his gaze toward the landscape through the floor-to-ceiling window.

The lush outlines gradually emerged from behind the yellow sands like a thin mist, casting shadows on the distant and faint horizon.

From the Bone Chewing Chaos sweeping through the River Valley to the flames burning above Falling Leaves...

The day of reckoning had finally arrived.

After this battle, the Alliance would welcome a long-lasting peace.

As a dedicated and dutiful planner, he would need to spend some time carefully crafting the next version.

But before that—

"It’s time to end this war."

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