This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 502: The Flame-Shaped Crest

Chapter 502: Chapter 502: The Flame-Shaped Crest

Not far behind the Iron Heart, a slightly smaller airship was closely following.

In the bridge.

Staring at the Iron Heart ahead, which had been modified beyond recognition, General McCullen’s face was filled with gloom.

He still remembered the mockery from the man in the tin can suit when he disembarked from that airship, the hollow congratulations.

He vowed.

The humiliation he suffered here, he would repay tenfold!

Standing not far beside him, Captain Adria of the Adjudicator frowned in thought for a while, before suddenly speaking up unexpectedly.

"I still can’t figure out how to seize that thing."

Compared to his Adjudicator, that guy’s ship was outfitted like a porcupine with cannons. Even if it were to face an army of a hundred thousand, the latter would probably only be able to watch helplessly.

Although there was no ridicule in his words, to McCullen’s ears, they were particularly grating, so much so that his brows couldn’t help but twitch.

"That was an accident..."

Seeing that his colleague didn’t want to elaborate, Adria shrugged in disappointment and did not pursue the matter.

Although he had one more star on his shoulder than McCullen did, he still had to consider the background of this man.

Unlike officers like Griffin who came from civilian backgrounds, McCullen, like himself, belonged to the class of noble officers. Even though the officers of the Eastern Expansion faction had fallen on hard times, he wouldn’t lose power because of that, and his experience fighting on the eastern front might even turn into a qualification.

Politics was one aspect, but in a place like Triumph City, one’s social standing was also a significant factor. They were all from the same air force system; there was no need to make an enemy over a few words.

The silence in the bridge continued briefly.

At this moment, McCullen suddenly initiated conversation.

"By the way, how did Griffin die?"

"He had a stroke," Adria replied reflexively, but McCullen dismissed the answer with a disdainful twist of his mouth.

"Don’t give me that crap; I’ve never seen that idiot with any health issues before."

Adria fell silent for a moment, then sighed.

"Don’t make this uncomfortable for me; he was from the army. If you’re curious, you should ask Joseph; maybe he knows something."

McCullen didn’t speak further, simply nodding his head, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on the Iron Heart outside the bridge.

On the distant deck, airplanes without propellers were being pushed into the hangar, and surprisingly, these planes lacked propellers.

"A very bold concept," Adria said approvingly, "I heard about it from the commander of the Falcon Kingdom’s guards. They drop this type of wooden airplane from the airship, using the airship’s altitude to provide gliding power... These airplanes can forego propellers and engines; two carpenters can make them."

"It seems problematic that they can’t take off from the ground, but as a disposable prop, it’s quite interesting."

Once he got back, he planned to speak with someone he knew from the Air Force Equipment Manufacturing Bureau to see if they could produce something similar.

But just a glider was useless.

This also involved retrofitting strategic airship equipment, which would require convincing the air force command, as well as finding a willing captain.

This would probably be difficult.

After all, Triumph City did not think indigenous equipment was of any value to learn from, nor did it truly regard the conflict with the Alliance as a war, but rather as a contest between Triumph City and Ideal City.

"Can we gain a bit more altitude?" McCullen, with his eyes unswervingly on the deck, suddenly asked.

Adria nodded and waved his hand nonchalantly.

"Ascend three hundred meters."

The aide-de-camp beside him stood at attention and said,

"Yes!"

...

The Adjudicator climbed to altitude, reaching the optimal observation deck. Meanwhile, not far off, the elongated flying craft also sped up and hovered over the battlefield.

Including Wu Changnian, standing on the Iron Heart.

Representatives from various factions were watching the Alliance’s next move.

And the Alliance’s actions didn’t disappoint those onlooking spectators.

Thirty gliders took off one after another from the airship’s deck, and with the roaring and surging air currents, they all headed towards the battle coordinates twenty kilometers away.

At the same time, underneath the rolling sand and dust, Enterprise Assault Team No.26 had already engaged in intense gunfire with the Black Rock Mutant Tribe.

Ten power armors were dispersed in the front ranks as vanguards, followed by bionic soldiers, and then soldiers in exoskeletons.

Trails of orange-yellow tracer fire zipped through the ruins like flecks spattering from a forge.

The situation on the battlefield was extremely tense!

Even though the Enterprise side had power armors and powerful Gauss Weapons, the mutants held an absolute numerical advantage and a physical edge.

Unless their skulls were cracked open by searing metal bullets, even if half their faces were blown off, they could still charge forward, brandishing chainsaws and their dangling jaws.

"Smash ’em flat!"

"Chop ’em up! Toss ’em in the fryer!"

"Mururururu!"

After shooting down more than a dozen mutants, one of the shorter figures charged closer.

Yun Song decisively discarded the broad Gauss Rifle he held like a greatsword and drew the curved knife strapped to the armor on his right leg, clanging it against an incoming short axe.

This was a gift from a general of the Lion Kingdom, purportedly forged from "Heavenly Alloy" gifted by the Spirit of the Sand Sea—essentially, it was armor steel used in starships.

Armor steel stripped from a starship was never going to be matched by scrap picked up in the Wasteland; the short axe was instantly fractured.

The mutant staggered back, a hint of surprise written in its bloodthirsty pupils; it clearly hadn’t expected this bulky hunk of metal to be so agile.

But the surprise was momentary, soon replaced by a craving for flesh and blood.

"Roar—!"

A beastly roar erupted, and it charged again with its fractured axe, but before it could take two steps, its throat was severed by a smoothly executed slash.

Watching the head fly, Yun Song flicked the blood off his knife without hesitation, picked up the Gauss Rifle from the ground, and calmly retreated while firing at the roaring mutants advancing on him.

Over two hundred bodies lay strewn on the ground, yet more ashen mutants seemed to emerge endlessly from the ruins.

"Damn it... Are there really only two thousand of these guys?" Su Ming tossed aside the overheated barrel and, while attaching a new one, cursed loudly.

"Maybe? Who can be certain... I can only estimate based on their food supplies and the scale of their constructions; maybe they’ve been growing mushrooms in some underground cavern," said the drone operator, feeling a chill on his scalp.

Mutants from the Great Desert differed completely from those on the East Coast.

Whether in their style of combat or in their habits of life.

If this were the East Coast, they would have already called in a tactical nuclear bomb or air-dropped an autonomous heavy-weapon robot as support.

The first line of defense, composed of power armor, had already made contact with the Mutants face-to-face.

Three power armors had drawn out their half-meter-long battle knives and were locked in combat with Mutants wielding hundred-kilogram hammers.

It was at this moment that the drone operator suddenly bellowed.

"The majority of the enemy units have gathered around the coordinates for artillery fire! Now is the best time! Captain, how much longer till the Alliance arrives?"

A calm reply came through the communication channel.

"Support request has been sent!"

Almost immediately after these words were spoken, a series of loud bangs could be heard in the distance.

Flashing lights amidst the sand haze were like thunderclaps on a clear day, followed by several whooshing sounds of objects cutting through the air, as streaks of white smoke plummeted from the sky above the battlefield down like raindrops.

The explosive fire reached high into the sky, and the spreading shrapnel and thick smoke burst between two tilting buildings, instantly engulfing over a hundred Mutants.

One of the buildings, hit by several artillery shells, could no longer support its twisted rebar, and the entire structure began to collapse.

Watching the high-rise topple overhead, pairs of bloodthirsty pupils finally showed a flicker of terror, but it was too late to run.

Countless Mutants barely had time to instinctively raise their arms to block the falling debris and dust before they were crushed into a pulp by the mountainous mass of the building.

The collapsing building triggered a chain reaction, causing another building that was struck at its base to begin collapsing as well.

The two toppling skyscrapers side by side formed a massive crisscrossed wall, broken into sections, cutting the battlefield in two.

The shock wave lifted rocks and rubble from the ground and blew them hundreds of meters away, creating a series of undulating ripples over the nearby quicksand.

"Woo-hoo!"

Su Ming, carrying a Gauss rifle, excitedly waved his fist and let out a cheer.

"Beautiful shot!"

The distant artillery noises had stopped.

But the Alliance’s offensive did not cease.

The buzzing noise in the air drew closer, and a series of desert-colored cruciforms appeared above the Assault Team No.26.

"What’s that?" Gu Wei raised his gun barrel toward the sky, before lowering it again.

"Alliance gliders, they’ve taken over the job of cleaning out the Mutant nests," Yun Song casually finished off a fallen Mutant with his knife and replied crisply in the communication channel, "Don’t just stand there like an idiot, otherwise you won’t even get a sip of hot soup later."

Suddenly, Su Ming spoke up.

"Hot soup? Are you talking about the ones in the Mutant nests?"

There was a brief silence on the communication channel.

"...I was just making a comparison, don’t fucking disgust me."

...

The collapsed buildings had cut off their own retreat, and the attacking Mutants instantly became orphans trapped in a corner.

Assault Team No.26 immediately switched from defense to offense, charging at the dazed Mutants, getting close to use knives or secondary weapons to finish them off while their wounds were still fresh.

When facing Variants, there was no need for mercy.

The gunfire around the ruins was relentless, and in just a few minutes, nearly another two hundred Mutants lay dead under the guns of Yun Song-led Assault Team No.26.

"Enterprise’s strength is not to be underestimated; I thought their ground forces were all a bunch of weaklings," Adria remarked with a hint of admiration in his eyes.

Although the advantage of their equipment accounted for a large part, the combat power of the soldiers themselves should not be underestimated. They had chosen a similar enhancement route to the Academy, making extensive use of intelligent weaponry and bionic prosthetics, but their performance on the battlefield was completely different from the fancy equipment of the Academy.

"After all, when it comes to dealing with Mutants, they’re pretty much experts," the assistant standing next to Adria gave an ambiguous assessment.

"Heh," McCullen sneered with a hint of mockery, "After all, it’s the mess they created. If they’re not good at it, who would be?"

Compared to Enterprise,

He was more concerned about those Waste Land Wanderers who had defeated him once...

Last time he had lost too quickly and too unexpectedly; he hadn’t even had a chance to see clearly how those airborne troops had managed to defeat his heavily armed Marines.

McCullen stared fixedly out of the bridge, motionlessly watching the gliders swooping towards the ground in an assault.

Come on...

Let’s see what amazing abilities you really have.

...

In fact, the Burning Corps didn’t display any remarkable skills during the landing phase, and the way the gliders touched down could even be described as quite unskilled.

One after another, the aircraft plunged into the mutant tribe’s village like scattered goddess blossoms, their sturdy wings and noses acting like shovels, flipping the roofs of countless shacks.

A glider landed in the middle of a pasture, its belly crashing straight into a rolling hot cauldron of oil.

The just-delivered Mutant Priest was scared out of its wits, completely baffled about where these bipedal creatures had come from.

It put the howling newborn in a basket to one side and drew a short knife used for butchering, howling as it charged towards the nearest aircraft.

However, before it could get within five steps of the plane, the "tut-tut-tut" of gunfire rang out as three fully armed soldiers burst from the cabin, blowing its head open.

"Damn it! I almost fell into the cauldron!" Spitting out a mouthful of bloody saliva, Night Ten reached down to pick up the fallen aircraft machine gun and forcefully tossed it to Quit Smoking Brother beside him.

Lucky the plane didn’t have a fuel tank!

Even if it caught fire, it didn’t matter.

"Hahaha! I’ll call over Old Na," Quit Smoking said as he loaded his heavy machine gun, jokingly teasing.

"Beat it!"

Night Ten rolled his eyes.

While they were talking, an intense sense of crisis surged up, and he almost instinctively shifted his gun’s muzzle toward a metal partition not far away.

"Thud, thud, thud—!"

The gun’s muzzle spat flames, and a series of "ding-ding-dang" noises instantly marked the metal partition with a dozen bullet holes.

A mist of blood burst from behind the pierced partition, and a variant soldier holding a rifle was immediately riddled with bullets and fell to the muddy ground with a pained cry.

With the tripod banging onto a slanted tin barrel, Quit Smoking immediately pulled the trigger after setting up his machine gun.

The muzzle spat out searing flames, instantly creating a tight network of fire along the twisted, winding alley.

In front of the 12mm heavy machine gun, the flesh and blood bodies of the Mutants, as well as the trash-made barricades in front of them, were as fragile as paper mache.

Although the players were not armed with advanced Gauss weapons and caseless rifles like Assault Team No.26, in terms of the efficiency of killing soft targets, the weapons of the Alliance were not much inferior.

The only difference was the shape of the wounds on the corpses...

The nearly a hundred players who landed in the gliders stirred up a bloody storm in the village of the Black Rock Mutant Tribe.

The mutants in the village were caught completely off guard by the attack from behind. Especially since their main forces had suffered heavy casualties in the bombardment and could not return in time to provide support.

As the pasture area holding the prisoners was occupied by the Alliance’s soldiers, the Steel Heart unleashed a second round of artillery fire targeting the player-provided coordinates.

Facing encirclement on all sides and the relentless barrage of artillery, the mutants’ resistance quickly crumbled.

"Speaking of Old White, where is he? It’s almost over, but I still haven’t seen him," Night Ten called out, as the mutants in the settlement were nearly wiped out.

"He parachuted down, so it’ll take a while. Let’s get our work done—" Wild Wind hadn’t finished speaking when a loud "boom" was heard not far away.

A dark silhouette crashed onto a row of metal sheds, its massive bulk completely collapsing the shed that spanned over ten meters wide.

Several mutants who had just reached adolescence scrambled out of the shed searching for weapons, but before they could take two steps, they were cut down by a rattle of gunfire.

Soon, that hearty voice came over the comms channel.

"What luck, it seems I’ve arrived just in time."

Night Ten blinked in slight surprise, then joked with a laugh.

"You were floating in the sky for just a bit longer, and that parachute jump would have been for nothing."

Quit Smoking: "Hahaha!"

...

Though the mutants of the Black Rock Tribe were far stronger than those the players had initially encountered during the pioneering days on Street No.76, today’s Alliance was not what it used to be.

The fierce battle lasted less than twenty minutes, with only sporadic gunfire and exhausted roars remaining inside and outside the tribe.

At the center of the settlement, in front of a strange altar.

The Mutant Priest, as old as the hills, had a rare look of panic and fear on his face as he walked up to meet them, hands raised.

He was dressed in beast skins and had a skull strung on a cord around his neck.

"Wait! Let me speak to your leader—there might be some misunderstanding—"

"Bang—!"

A searing bullet pierced its skull, cutting off the desperate plea for mercy.

Looking at the body on the steps, Night Ten spat.

"Misunderstanding my ass."

Meet the Manager?

You wish.

Wild Wind glanced at the young man.

"You killed this guy; who are we going to ask for clues about the crew now?"

Night Ten froze, then scratched the back of his head sheepishly, saying guiltily.

"Wasn’t it Old White who said to ’spare no one’..."

He admitted that when he landed, seeing his fellow humans captured by the mutants made him a bit hotheaded.

Old White patted his shoulder and said with a smile.

"No worries, there are plenty of them still alive to question, just grab one and ask."

Saying this, he walked over to the body of the Mutant Priest, preparing to examine it. However, as his gaze fell on the clothing of the mutant, his brow furrowed in concern.

The patterns wove into upright and inverted triangles as if they depicted torches with flames flickering above them.

Old White looked up at the altar ahead, and the symbols etched on the stone wall were exactly like the one in his memory.

A torch?

But this place was in the Great Desert, thousands of kilometers away from Death Coast.

How could the symbol of the Torch Church appear here?

Old White’s frown deepened.

Was it a coincidence?

But now was not the time to ponder this question.

Cutting a strip of linen from the priest’s clothing with his battle knife, Old White looked up at the altar ahead and waved his right fist.

"Move on!"

The perimeter mutants had been cleared.

If nothing went wrong,

They should be approaching the BOSS fight!

...

However, to the players’ disappointment, there was no legendary Super Mutant in the altar.

There wasn’t even an Elite Monster.

But thinking about it, it made sense.

If there was such a terrifying creature, General Kras would definitely have used it in the previous expedition and wouldn’t have saved this trump card for the end.

After dealing with a few mutants wielding rifles guarding the altar, everyone successfully entered the great hall built from concrete rubble.

It seemed to have been a factory before, with a backup generator for nuclear batteries inside the factory, and it was still operating.

Following the cables, the group quickly discovered twelve upright cylindrical cultivation chambers in a side hall of the altar.

The chambers were filled with a dark green solution, with pale bodies submerged within, respirators covering their faces.

Bubbles continuously rose from the bottom of the chambers, clearly indicating that the devices were still active.

Old White frowned, walked up to the console, and was about to try operating it when he embarrassingly found that even though the mutants could operate the device, he couldn’t understand it at all.

If Fang Chang were here, maybe he would have known what to do...

He sheepishly looked towards his brothers.

"...This is?"

Night eleven looked confused.

"A clone synthesis device?"

Recalling what they saw on Street No.76, Wild Wind shook his head.

"It doesn’t seem like it..."

"That’s a healing chamber."

A strange voice came from behind, interrupting the players’ conversation. Though it was entirely in a different language, there was an unexpectedly seamless integration into the conversation.

The group turned their heads to see Captain Yun Song of the Enterprise 26th Strike Team unfurling his helmet visor, approaching with his rifle in hand.

"Sleep Cabin?" Old White asked in the language of the United Human, not understanding.

"Exactly."

Stopping in front of one of the Cultivation chambers, Yun Song looked at the Device with a complex expression and slowly continued.

"They would throw human females with reproductive capabilities and good genetic compatibility, suitable for use as hosts, into the Sleep Cabins... After healing, they’re reused."

"The Variants capable of using these Devices are usually the tribe’s Priests or Chieftains... It’s the same on the East Coast."

"How did these guys learn to use these Devices?" Old White couldn’t help but ask.

"These Devices are not very difficult to operate, sometimes even containing simple tutorials or even automatic AI..."

Yun Song paused, his expression complex as he continued,

"Of course, it’s also possible that they were taught by people."

It’s worth mentioning that though Variants are a completely different Species from humans, they are not entirely unable to communicate.

In fact, they also speak the language of the United Human, though most are rather slow-witted.

A few smart Variants quickly stand out from a group of dummies, becoming either Priests or Herders of their tribe, knowing how to exchange the things humans like for the things they need.

Like Slaves.

Or tools for producing Slaves.

Variants don’t have the concept of medicine.

Either there is a Sleep Cabin, a cloning chamber, or there must be a Variant Chieftain skilled in husbandry.

Otherwise, given their brutal midwifery skills and the harsh environment of this region, even with their long individual lifespans, they couldn’t possibly breed to a population of over a thousand.

Yun Song seriously doubted that it was General Kras of the Army who taught these Variants how to use the Sleep Cabins,

After all, those Weilante People certainly had the capacity.

And a complete motive to do so.

"Let’s not talk about that, I’m glad to have fought alongside you..."

Glancing at the voluminous power armor on Old White, Yun Song extended his fist and lightly bumped it on his shoulder, saying with slight surprise,

"Is this the one from before? Incredible... you actually fixed it."

Old White grinned,

"The interior has been slightly modified, not as advanced, but it doesn’t affect its use."

Initially, it was Yin Fang who helped him with the repairs, followed by representatives from Enterprise who arrived at Qingquan City and then he bought some parts from the Chang Ge Group.

Yun Song said with a tone of nostalgia,

"The power armors from the Prosperity Epoch are much better than those produced in the years after the War, it’s just a pity we don’t have the ability to completely repair one."

He paused for a moment, then looked earnestly at Old White continuing to ask,

"I’ve searched just now, and we didn’t find the people we’re looking for here. What do you plan to do with these survivors... and the ones outside who were rescued?"

Old White glanced around and said offhandedly,

"Probably the same old rules, send them to the Home of the Refugees after they are treated."

Yun Song asked, not understanding,

"What is that?"

"A place akin to a relief station."

Yun Song was slightly stunned, having not expected the Alliance to have such a facility and after a moment of silence, he said,

"But I think... it might be better to turn off the respirators for them, very few can walk out of such hellish experiences."

At first, they also sent the rescued survivors to the nearby Survivor Settlements, but later they found that doing so only added to their troubles.

Most Survivor Settlements would not accept those who had been captured by Variants; even if willing to help the Enterprise out for the sake of money, they would at most give them a few meals and find an unobtrusive place for them to fend for themselves.

And the majority of those rescued would not thank them, even resenting them for not giving them a swift end or taking them to Ideal City.

He too initially tried to help those "troubles" that were unexpectedly added to the missions, but after a few more missions, he realized that it was purely discomfort for himself.

If you think about it carefully, not all were captured; many were incorrectly produced by cloning Devices.

Sending wrongly born individuals off to start new lives was in fact a kind of benevolence.

Old White was silent for a while, then shrugged his shoulders.

"I don’t know; maybe you’re right, but the choice is theirs, isn’t it? At least we did what we could."

They did not leave these rescued people unattended.

There were quite a few of those rescued from the dungeons of the Looters who ultimately could not break free and chose suicide.

But there were also examples of those who managed to start new lives and even find happiness in their new lives.

"Maybe so," Yun Song nodded slightly, acknowledging with respect, and said to Old White and the soldiers of the Alliance behind him, "I’ll leave this place to you guys."

With that, he turned and walked outside.

The fight was over.

The Entry to Pioneer and No.0 Shelter was not far from this camp.

Before welcoming the arrival of the Enterprise’s high-ranking officials, he needed to take his soldiers and clean up the Battlefield, while ensuring the safety of the nearby area.

Watching the NPC named Yun Song leave, Old White suddenly thought of something and looked towards Night Ten standing aside.

"Right, bring in those NPCs that were rescued outside as well... if those survivors are still alive."

"Received."

Understanding the suggestion of his good brother, Night Ten gave an OK gesture and turned to walk outside.

Old White’s gaze returned to the row of Sleep Cabins.

Observing the survivors floating in the nutrient solution, it seemed that these cultivation chambers couldn’t regenerate limbs but could accelerate the healing of injuries.

This bore a resemblance to the Cultivation chambers used by players.

The difference was merely that the players’ Cultivation chambers were only effective for matching Gene Sequences and couldn’t be used by others, let alone lent to other players.

As for the cheaper "Sleep Cabins," they were just save points for players, without the acceleration of healing.

Although players probably wouldn’t need it, it was still very helpful for the NPCs who only had one life; it might be worth salvaging.

On the Wasteland, as long as one didn’t die on the spot, even if severely injured with broken arms and legs, there were still plenty of remedies available.

Old White suddenly realized that the Great Desert really was hiding many treasures.

Thinking of the legendary No.0 Shelter, his heart grew even more expectant...

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