This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 561: Melee in the Dark

Chapter 561: Chapter 561: Melee in the Dark

"Snap!"

The sudden gunshot shattered the night’s silence, and the originally peaceful streets boiled over like a pot of water brought to a boil.

"Ratatat—!"

Orange tracer rounds weaved wildly through the night, and the continuous gunfire sounded like firecrackers exploding, catching the mutants in the park off guard.

But that was only at the beginning.

Those mutants seemed to be used to such sudden ambushes.

They dragged their fallen comrades behind cover, then picked up their weapons and roared as they launched a counterattack toward the direction of the gunshots.

Night Ten quickly glanced at the map, comparing it to the area from where the gunshots had come.

He could be sure.

There were none of his own there.

Almost at the same time as the gunfire exploded, a chaotic voice came through the communication channel.

"Shit, who’s firing?!"

"Night Ten???"

Hearing his ID, Night Ten couldn’t help but burst out.

"Did you fucking hear a railgun?"

These damn idiots!

Still joking with me at a time like this.

"Quiet! It’s not our gunfire!" Old White was reliable at critical times, quickly interrupting the arguing over the public mic.

If one listened carefully, that first gunshot indeed did not sound like an LD-47, and after playing the game for so long, he could still distinguish the sound of gunfire.

However, among the crackling gunshots that followed, several were clearly from the LD-47.

Perhaps unable to handle the recoil of the full-power bullets, those few gunshots were very brief, maintaining a rhythm of two or three shots a burst.

Night Ten immediately made a judgment in his mind.

This group of people is using mismatched equipment!

Although he couldn’t determine from the gunfire alone whether these people were elite, he could at least judge that they probably weren’t very wealthy.

Could they be mercenaries?

As he was thinking this, Elder Brother Fang Chang’s voice came through the communication channel. Judging from the few gunshots that leaked through his mic, the B Team he was leading should be very close to the firefight area.

"...North 13th Street has encountered a firefight, and others besides us have set their sights on this place."

While reporting, a set of photos were simultaneously uploaded to the VM for the squad members.

Although the streets shrouded in night were pitch-black, one could still roughly make out the silhouette of that line of people with the help of the gun flashes.

They were about ten in number, wearing different styles of casual clothing, with a variety of different weapons in their hands, making it impossible to determine their faction through their gear.

However, there was one uniform symbol on them, which was the armband wrapped around their left arm. It seemed to depict an elongated arrow, but upon closer inspection, it also resembled a high-tension tower or a signal tower.

At this moment, Wild Wind reported.

"The neighboring mutant tribe has sent reinforcements; the terrain is too complex to ascertain the number of people, but I can see twelve modified armored vehicles."

Night Ten was startled upon hearing this.

"Armored vehicles?!"

Wild Wind: "It’s just the kind of modification with welded steel plates... but there are some oddly-shaped weapons mounted on them that concern me, these mutants might be different from the ones we’ve encountered before."

Old White: "How long until they arrive?"

Wild Wind: "Within three minutes."

After a brief pause on the communication channel, Old White decisively made a judgment.

"We need to figure out their identities, ideally bringing back a couple of live ones."

The group that had suddenly launched an attack was clearly a feint; they had no intention of taking down the research facility occupied by the mutants.

This was easy to judge.

Guerrilla warfare and siege warfare, in terms of tactics and scale, are completely different; just listening to the intensity of the firefight and the distribution of gunshots, he could tell that this group had already planned their escape routes during the assault.

It was clear they had harassed the mutants here more than once.

If these NPCs were like the resistance organization in West State City, all survivors who had taken up arms in response to the oppression from the mutants and the Torch Church.

Perhaps they could cooperate.

Fang Chang: "Leave it to me... I’m pretty sure this group on my side is going to run into trouble, I should be able to save one or two."

Old White: "Night Ten, you back him up, A, C, and D groups fall back, leave this place to B Team and Recon."

Uniform responses came through the communication channel.

"Copy that!"

In the darkness, a group of soldiers clad in exoskeletons began to move, and Fang Chang led three teammates close to the rear of the guerrilla team they were watching.

The mutants clearly had their sights set on this group as well.

Those green-skinned guys seemed to know it was impossible to catch all the mice, so they planned to concentrate their strength to catch a few of the most active ones first.

The guerrilla team soldiers also seemed to realize something and began to tighten their position, but they were facing mutants who were unafraid of death, not average soldiers.

Those green-skinned guys were like cancer cells; even if half of their bodies were blown away, they could still live. Unless a bullet smashed their skulls, getting shot a few times meant nothing to them.

To avoid startling the target, the Viper transport plane waiting atop a high-rise building left the battlefield first and flew to a more rearward extraction point.

It then quietly resettled on the edge of the building.

Night Ten skillfully deployed the bipod of the type 15 "Python" Gauss Rifle and adjusted the scope to thermal imaging mode.

The view was black and white.

Hiding in the darkness, the white dots representing the combatants on both sides were exposed without question.

"Can you see your three o’clock direction?"

Comparing the map and markers on the tactical goggles, Night Ten quickly located the position Fang Chang was talking about.

A group of mutants was quickly moving through a half-collapsed high-rise, apparently planning to move to the side and rear of that guerrilla team to establish a fire point.

Looking at the mutant setting up the machine gun beside a broken window unfolding its stand, a trace of surprise flashed across Night Ten’s eyes.

Wow!

These mutants understand tactics?!

He had no time to hesitate. He immediately responded in the communication channel.

"I see them... There’s about a ten-man team, getting ready to set up a machine gun."

Fang Chang, "Take them down!"

"Roger that!"

As he spoke, Night Ten had already pulled the trigger.

An electric arc flashed briefly in the gun barrel, and the recoil hit his shoulder armor evenly, the aftermath was like throwing a javelin.

Simultaneously, the Mutant holding the machine gun, hundreds of meters away, had its head blown open like a watermelon struck by a blunt object, spattering red and white all over the ground.

"One!"

For soft targets without armor protection, there’s no need to charge the capacitor, a hit to the head was all it took for a kill.

Night Ten, after taking down one, didn’t relax his breathing and quickly aimed at the next target—the Mutant that rushed to take over the machine gun.

"Two!"

The instant he pulled the trigger, another head was blasted into fragments.

The remaining eight Mutants were thrown into chaos, babbling frantically, no longer daring to touch the machine gun set at the window.

Seeing no one peeking out for a while, Night Ten gently exhaled the turbid air in his chest, his mouth curling into a faint smile.

"Machine gun fire suppressed!"

Fang Chang’s voice came through the communication channel.

"Beautifully done! Keep up the suppression... leave the rest to me!"

The tactical goggles displayed drone-aerial footage, and through the holographic images, Night Ten could see Fang Chang’s team had successfully intercepted the Mutant squad that had circled to the Guerrilla Team’s rear.

These guys were really different from the Mutants they had encountered before.

Although the tactics of these green-skinned fellas were far from sophisticated, even blunt and lacking in skill, paired with the Mutants’ resilient physique, it was just enough.

A shrill whining sound sped towards the ground, and a fiery light burst forth from the reinforcement convoy of Mutants in the distance.

That was Wild Wind’s handiwork.

Judging from the power of the explosion, it was clearly the "Spring Knife" that had shone so impressively in the Battle of West State City; this device could even flip a Conqueror No. 10 tank, so a modified truck was no problem at all.

The abrupt explosion jammed the reinforcement convoy on the street, buying the besieged Guerrilla Team some time to retreat.

Those people had clearly noticed the sudden emergence of help and were trying to regroup with the team led by Fang Chang.

"Roger that!"

A concise reply, Night Ten continued to peer through the thermal imager, his gaze locked on the machine gun, waiting patiently for his prey. But after a long wait, the third head refused to show itself.

By a broken door, a faint heat source could be seen, confirming that the group of Mutants were still there and hadn’t left. Those beasts probably never dreamt that their heavy breathing was also a source of heat, outlined by the thermal imager in the lens.

His index finger rubbed against the trigger, growing impatient.

Honestly, he had played this "Game" for so long, and this was the first time he encountered such cowardly Mutants, hiding behind cover after losing just two of their own.

A thought crossed his mind, and a wicked smile curled up the corners of his mouth.

"Like hiding behind cover, do they?"

It was a good time to test new equipment.

Back in Luo Xia Province, he thought he could make a big impression with the range and armor-piercing capabilities of his Gauss Rifle, but to his disappointment, the terrain was too wide, causing the fighting distance to far exceed the range of the rifles. The ultra-long-distance combat was basically left to tanks, planes, and artillery—he barely had a chance to shine in a few raid operations.

No sooner said than done, Night Ten pulled out a bullet shaped like a long nail from behind him.

This was an armor-piercing bullet designed for concrete bunkers, specifically to deal with those who refused to show their faces.

Inserting the bullet into the barrel, Night Ten pressed the charging switch of the capacitor and then slowly squeezed the trigger.

Electricity surged from the battery to the high-energy capacitor, the hot plasma rolling in the barrel, and as he released the trigger, it burst forth.

A short bang, hot air squeezed out of the muzzle, rippling into a circle at the muzzle, and along with the high-speed mass bomb, it broke through the sound barrier!

The bullet traced a scorching transparent trajectory through the night sky, slamming into the dark window like a shell, instantly shattering an entire wall.

The reverse recoil made the shoulder armor shake slightly. Looking at the white-glowing bodies in the thermal imager, Night Ten’s lips involuntarily twisted into a smug smile.

"Three!"

The power of this Gauss Rifle was really no joke—the bullet took down both a Mutant and a wall.

Though a bit of a waste, it was thrilling!

Having been hit by this shot, the group of Mutants seemed to have been stunned. They never expected the Guerrilla Team, which they harassed daily, to have such capability.

From hundreds of meters away, Night Ten couldn’t hear their communication, but they looked absolutely terrified and no longer dared to stay behind the wall, scrambling to escape downstairs instead.

"Weak!"

However, just as he was feeling victorious, a sense of foreboding stealthily crept into his heart, causing the hairs on his body to involuntarily stand on end.

Something had targeted him!

He could faintly sense the presence of that thing, yet he could not discern the direction of the killing intent!

What he could be sure of was that creature had been watching him for some time—perhaps since he fired the first shot. Only now had it entered his range of Perception...

This creature was powerful!

With extreme caution in his mind, Night Ten dared not take any chances. He quickly packed up the Gauss Rifle set up at the edge of the Building and moved to the entrance of the safe passage, all the while shouting in the communication channel.

"I think I’m being watched!"

Fang Chang’s voice resonated in his ear.

"Pull back, head to the evacuation point now! We’re getting ready to wrap up here."

Night Ten instantly responded.

"Roger that! See you at the base!"

A punch burst through the rusted safety door.

The moment he retreated from the rooftop to the top floor, Night Ten felt the premonition of danger getting stronger.

Going downstairs might lead to a collision with the group of Mutants; the narrow terrain may not even suit power armor.

Moreover, his expertise lay not in direct combat but in taking long-range shots.

Thinking this, Night Ten had a flash of inspiration and decisively abandoned the stairs, darting into the elevator shaft, forcefully prying open the rusted elevator doors.

Darkness filled the elevator shaft, obscuring the view below.

He reached out to tug at the cable hanging right at the center, and after confirming that it was strong enough, he hooked it on and then took a leap towards the bottom of the elevator shaft.

"Zzz—"

Though the power armor weighed over a ton, it was still within the elevator system’s weight range, so the descent was relatively smooth.

However, the grating metallic friction was louder than he had expected.

"Damn... I hope no one hears this."

That shouldn’t happen, right?

Isn’t the elevator shaft soundproofed pretty well?

As he was thinking this, the silhouette of the elevator car suddenly appeared below, and Night Ten quickly tightened his legs around the cable and the hook to slow down.

His feet landed heavily on top of the elevator car, causing it to creak and sway.

Night Ten quickly glanced at the floor number on the wall and let out a sigh of relief—it was the tenth floor.

Taking the stairs from here shouldn’t present any problems.

With his right hand on the door handle of the elevator car’s roof hatch, Night Ten yanked it off and tossed it aside.

But just as he was about to step in, his expression changed slightly.

Shit!

This hatch is too small!

The elevator’s roof hatch was only about one and a half shoulder-widths wide, barely enough to get stuck on his shoulder armor. If he got caught halfway down, Ah Guang, who was watching the screen, would surely laugh his head off.

That won’t do!

"Damn it! Throwing me a curveball!"

What should I do?

Night Ten quickly looked around for an escape route, but just then, he felt a sudden emptiness beneath his feet and lost contact with the ground.

"Crack—!"

The fleeting weightlessness almost turned him head over heels, and the explosion from above made it immediately clear what had happened.

Somebody had blown up the cable.

The last maintenance was two centuries ago, and without any functioning brake system, the elevator car, having lost its only support, started to freefall down the elevator shaft.

As the floors sped by in descent, Night Ten’s face went through a rapid change of expressions.

His power armor might have been the legacy of the orbital drop soldiers, but those were supposed to be used with drop pods. He’d never heard of any power armor that could drop naked from a height with more than a ton of weight.

Maybe a Pentagon Warrior could do it.

Unfortunately, the character he trained was just a weak perception-type.

"I’m screwed!"

He was careless!

...

At the same moment, dozens of kilometers away in Town Of Hope, Xiaoyu, standing on the edge of the town, suddenly looked up.

"Eh?"

Upon hearing a voice come through the communication channel, Falling Feather stopped in his tracks and turned his head back to look.

"What’s the matter?"

Yu One and Yu Two exchanged glances, tilting their heads in confusion. Yu Three, scanning the surroundings, suddenly blurted out a word.

"Screwed!"

Falling Feather: "..."

Sigh.

And here he had thought Xiaoyu had made some discovery when in fact, he just wanted to curse.

Relieved, Falling Feather was about to follow the convoy when he suddenly caught sight of a green-skinned figure walking out of the town gate.

Even though it was night, and the illumination under the fence gate was dim, he was sure he wasn’t mistaken—the face under that hood was green.

Only he didn’t understand why this figure’s build wasn’t as bulky as that of the mutants; its bones and body contours were closer to human.

Falling Feather, with goosebumps all over, almost reflexively drew his weapon, aiming at the head of the green-skinned figure.

His sudden move startled everyone nearby.

Wu Wen Zhou, the convoy leader, didn’t understand what was happening, while the green-skinned figure did the same as Falling Feather, resulting in an additional ten rifles being aimed at his head.

Seeing the stand-off unfold, the old guard on duty at the town gate immediately grabbed the rifle slung on his back and came over, holding it in his hands.

"Hey! Cut it out, buddy! Brawls are prohibited within a hundred meters of the town!"

Upon seeing the dark exoskeleton, he felt a pang of fear but still chided out loud.

"Mutant!" Falling Feather stared intently at the green-skinned figure. "Does this settlement actually allow mutants to come and trade?"

"That guy... actually isn’t."

The guard’s expression turned somewhat awkward, seeming unsure of how to explain and hesitated about whether to help the green-skinned figure out.

Fighting was undeniably forbidden in the settlement, a rule, especially for Town Of Hope, which relied on trade to survive.

After all, without rules, everything would descend into chaos.

But to be honest, he didn’t like these green-skinned fellows, even if they bore a closer resemblance to humans—they still carried half mutant blood in their veins.

Mostly they came from the Mutant tribe called "Qi."

The survivors all around Brocade River City held hatred and fear for those beings.

The green-skinned guy coldly looked at Falling Feather, then suddenly smirked, put away his weapon, and silently dropped his pants.

Startled by his action, Falling Feather hastily shielded his eyes with his left hand, but he still needed to aim, so he squinted through a gap between his fingers.

"What the hell, are you doing—?"

Eh?

Nothing?

Staring at the bare green skin, Falling Feather was stunned.

He recalled information from the official website that claimed some mutants lacked genitalia, especially the oldest ones.

They weren’t born through reproduction but sprang from incubation tanks, and some of them were even scientists and engineers. If they hadn’t gone mad, they might still retain human cognition—a rare existence indeed.

Most forcibly turned into mutants in vats went mad for various reasons, becoming complete animals.

Few could remain conscious.

Since this technologically synthesized breed was incapable of reproduction, the expansion of their population size was clearly not comparable to the main species of the Wasteland. That’s why you almost never encounter them.

It was this strange fella that baffled everyone.

By the time Falling Feather came to his senses, he had pulled up his pants and walked away.

"...Half-breeds, you occasionally see guys like this, inheriting more genes from their mother, possessing neither the reproductive abilities nor the physique of the Mutants. It’s said that maybe one or two out of ten thousand Mutant pups might be like this, but who knows? Mutants won’t birth pups in front of us."

"And moreover, Mutants themselves don’t take kindly to these creatures, often viewing them as a disgrace and leaving them in the Wasteland to fend for themselves."

Watching the man walk away, the guard with the rifle squinted his eyes and continued.

"How should I put it?"

"They’re like mules born from a horse and a donkey, haha."

The man laughed casually to lighten the mood, and the others from the Commercial Team joined in. But Falling Feather couldn’t shake a nagging discomfort.

This analogy did not merely distance those with half human blood, "half-breeds," it seemed to similarly distance the unfortunate captives caught by Mutants.

While he didn’t know how to judge the former, the latter, at least, were innocent and shouldn’t be reduced to a punchline to ease the tension.

"What’s that... guy’s name?"

"Who knows, they all look pretty much the same. No one’s interested in looking closely at their faces, and they generally cover them up. If you need him for something, just shout ’Hey’ to him. They are good Hunters, sometimes taking Mercenary work, cheap. But usually stick to their area."

"Not venturing out means no trade to run," Wu Wen Zhou slapped Falling Feather’s shoulder and grinned, "Forget about that guy. Fancy a couple of drinks?"

"Sure." Falling Feather nodded; he just happened to want to gather some local intelligence.

According to Brother Fang Chang’s theory, Bars are the easiest place to collect information, especially those frequented by traders and Mercenaries.

Wu Wen Zhou glanced at the ten strong and loyal enforcers behind him.

"What about those guys?"

They were strong but never took off their helmets, not even their facemasks.

If possible, he wanted to get on good terms with these people. Not just for his boss, but for himself too.

Falling Feather froze, then chuckled.

"Ah, Xiaoyu should sit this one out."

Xiaoyu?

Who’s that?

Wu Wen Zhou glanced at the ten enforcers. They all seemed to react to the name, making it hard for him to tell who was being addressed.

But such things were unimportant. There were plenty of oddities in the Wasteland.

He laughed it off, signaling his men to park the vehicles at their usual lodge, then dragged the tough guy to the tavern at the entrance of the town.

"Bear and Lamppost... The name of this tavern, this is a good place!" Standing at the entrance, Wu Wen Zhou inhaled deeply with delight, then strutted inside.

Frowning, Falling Feather fanned his nose and followed suit, steeling himself.

The exterior of the tavern was unprepossessing, but the hall and bar were nearly full, the noise was ceaseless, and the music from the speakers was like scratching a chalkboard with a fork.

Moreover, the air was quite murky, filled with the smell of smoke and sweat, and a strange smell of mold.

It was an indescribable feeling.

But the people here didn’t seem to mind.

Perhaps, to most here, this was what feeling alive was like.

Whereas out there on the Wasteland, mere meters away, the sensation of being alive was so faint. Even powerful Awakeners could easily lose their lives in a moment of carelessness.

Within a hundred miles, this was the only place where you could relax and have a drink, without worrying about your head getting blown off by an enemy—unless you no longer wished to live.

While chattily explaining the tavern’s history to Falling Feather, Wu Wen Zhou found a quiet corner to sit down, ordering some appetizers and two large beers from a waitstaff carrying a tray.

"In Brocade River Province, everything else is expensive, except for food."

Actually, there was one more thing that was cheap.

That was people.

Whether men, women, elderly, or children, in this fertile yet chaotic land, they were all exceptionally affordable, usually only needing half the price compared to other places.

However, considering this guy was a Resident of the refuge, Wu Wen Zhou prudently skipped over such matters.

Falling Feather took a sip of beer. The rich taste was indeed good, but the air in here carried a strange scent.

He had noticed it upon entering.

"This smell is kind of strange."

Thinking he was talking about the beer, Wu Wen Zhou laughed.

"Are you not used to drinking anything other than hometown brew?"

"It’s not about the beer," Falling Feather nodded and whispered after glancing around, "There’s something unclean here."

He didn’t know what it was.

Xiaoyu had told him.

Xiaoyu had sensed an unpleasant scent since entering the town, intensifying near the bar.

At that moment, a waitstaff brought over a basket of bread and a jar of greenish substance, placing it on the neighboring table.

"Pine bread, a specialty here."

The Mercenary at the next table eyed the greenish glass jar with curiosity.

"What’s this?"

Before the waitstaff could answer, a man sitting next to the Mercenary said with a smile,

"Special jam from Town Of Hope! Tasty stuff, it’s getting popular around here, just try it! I bet you’ll love it!"

"Haha, come off it. I don’t do sweets. I only eat meat!"

"Give it a go, it’s on me."

Upon the encouragement of his good brother, the Mercenary unscrewed the jar curiously, dipped a finger in, and sucked it off, muttering after tasting,

"It’s strange, let me try again."

Staring at the jar of greenish jam, Falling Feather suddenly recognized the substance, eyes bulging in surprise.

Good lord.

Nago... jam?!

Now he finally understood what had been making Xiaoyu uncomfortable...