This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 562: Come Down!

Chapter 562: Chapter 562: Come Down!

Following the usual approach in games, certainly the best strategy is to stack the most expensive equipment on your character, but "Wasteland OL" is a whole different story.

Whether it’s equipment or level, or even the player’s own experience, these are just one of the factors that determine the outcome of combat, not all of them.

The overly realistic collision volumes and physics system often make battles full of uncertainties.

It’s like rolling dice.

Experienced warriors have a higher probability of rolling higher numbers, but a small mistake or a moment’s hesitation can cause the dice to be thrown again.

If Save/Load was an option, Ye Wei swore he would never spend a million silver coins on a "coffin" to be buried in.

Although the OD-10 "Dragon Cavalry" is the equipment for orbital airdrops, its lightening is only relative to the T-10 "Champion"; it is used for airdropping into cities to work with armored units and more lightweight infantry in urban warfare, so its armor still has a certain thickness.

If you really want to parkour back and forth between high-rise buildings, you need to get something with even higher mobility and lighter weight, like the "Special Ops" model.

It would be even better if it had optical camouflage and chemical propellers.

"Cough—!"

In the pitch-dark tunnel.

Startling awake from unconsciousness, Night Ten convulsed like a body coming back to life, coughing as he sat up from the dented metal shell of the elevator top.

"Damn it, finally logged in!"

Yellow exclamation marks blinked on his tactical goggles, but fortunately, the power components and mechanical structures were undamaged.

After moving his limbs to confirm the armor’s joints and motors were working properly, Night Ten breathed a sigh of relief and quickly got up from the ground.

If not for the shock-absorbing padding of the power armor taking some of the impact, that fall alone would have been enough to finish him off.

Thinking of this, Night Ten couldn’t help but break out in a cold sweat.

A two-century old antique, repaired and maintained up till now, could still function after falling from a height of fifty to sixty meters.

The technology of the Prosperity Epoch is truly impressive.

But that long string of yellow exclamation marks...

He’s probably going to need some major repairs when he gets back.

Now fully conscious, a sense of impending danger slowly crept over him.

Knowing he couldn’t stay long, Night Ten swiftly jumped down from the wrecked elevator top, and with the brute strength of his power armor, he moved it aside.

He removed the elevator doors to enter the hallway and caught sight of the number B4 on the wall.

Holy moly.

That’s one deep pit!

He quickly found the floor map on the wall, wiped off the dust with his hand, and soon confirmed his location and the way to the safety passage.

"... turn left at the corridor corner."

Just to be safe, he took a photo, but as he was about to leave, a faint noise suddenly reached his ears.

"Hah—"

The sound was like the panting of a beast.

Eerie and unexpected in the pitch-black corridor, it raised goosebumps all over his body.

Then came the squeak of boots on dusty ground, approaching from the other end of the hallway, getting closer and closer...

"Damn it... They said it was a fun game, turned into a horror game for me."

Cursing under his breath, he slung the oversized-barreled Gauss Rifle behind his back and drew the LD-50 carbine hanging at his waist.

The other side already knew he was here, so hiding was pointless. He flicked off the safety and smoothly chambered the rifle.

And just as he expected, the footsteps did not hesitate for a second, as if certain he had nowhere to run, the pace leisurely, as if toying with prey.

Eyes locked on the far end of the hallway, when the figure around the corner became visible, Night Ten’s pupils involuntarily constricted.

It was a green-skinned giant with a thick steel helmet on his head, nearly touching the ceiling of the hallway, and his broad shoulders took up half the corridor.

His rippling muscles were like piles of granite blocks, and in his clenched right fist, he wielded a chainsaw nearly as tall as a man. But what was truly chilling was that the left half of his body, from the waist to his head, had been completely replaced with a metal construct, and his left arm was even fused with a cannon!

Fuck!?

A Synthetic Mutant?!

Which jackass did surgery on this thing?!

"Oru."

The dull roar sounded like a battle cry.

It also seemed to be its name.

It appeared that the creature wanted to face him in single combat.

Swallowing hard, Night Ten gripped his weapon tightly and turned on the loudspeaker, announcing his presence in his native tongue.

"Daddy!"

"Daddy..."

Through the dark visor of his tactical goggles, Oru saw the panic in the eyes of the human before him and twisted his lips into a cruel smile.

These ugly human pests had harassed them for quite some time, and he swore he would shred this one with the cruelest methods.

Oblivious to the pea shooter in his opponent’s hands, Oru shook the chainsaw he wielded, making a provocative gesture.

"...Well, buddy, you’re not even flinched by power armor?"

Catching the provocation in that gaze, Night Ten raised an eyebrow and decisively pulled the trigger.

"Ratatat—!"

Gunfire echoed down the hallway, the LD-50’s muzzle spewing a torrent of flames as bullets showered down one side of the corridor.

Yet the Synthetic Mutant was unfazed.

He planted the bulky chainsaw directly onto the ground; its two-palm-wide blade acted like a shield, scraping a string of sparks against the barrage of bullets.

Too weak!

Standing sideways, Oru’s icy gaze fell on the human at the end of the hallway, his mouth curving into a cruel smirk.

However, just at this moment, a sudden change occurred.

The human abruptly put down his empty magazine carbine and instantly grabbed the Gauss Rifle strapped to his back, setting it up in his hands.

Oru’s expression froze.

From the dark, cold muzzle, he faintly saw the jumping electric arcs.

Charging was already complete—

But when?!

"Die, dammit!!"

The grating sonic boom exploded in the corridor, and the scorching trajectory seemed to twist the air.

The distance of less than twenty meters vanished in a flash, and the high-velocity mass bomb sent both the chainsaw and the mutant flying.

While spraying the green baboon with the carbine, Night Ten had turned on the charging switch of the Gauss Rifle on his back and almost at the instant of firing the last bullet from the magazine, switched to the Gauss Rifle which had completed charging.

At such a close distance, a hit meant there was no chance of survival.

However, that premonition lingering in his heart still hadn’t dissipated from Night Ten’s mind.

"Can’t be... he’s still alive?!"

The capacitor’s cooling CD had just ended, and Night Ten pressed the charging switch again, planning to give the green baboon another shot.

However, almost at the instant he pressed the switch, a deafening bang came almost simultaneously from the other end of the corridor.

"Bang—!"

A huge impact hit his chest, staggering him backward.

Then two more gunshots rang out, one shattering the sagging door panel behind him, and another pushing him into the twisted elevator cabin.

"Roar—!"

The huge gun barrel smoked blue, and fury burned in his bloodshot eyes.

Oru, struggling to stand up from beside the wall, picked up the half of the chainsaw that had fallen on the ground, no longer daring to be careless, and charged roaring towards the distorted elevator.

A few lead bullets certainly couldn’t penetrate power armor, but if the force was strong enough, he had no doubt he could smash the person inside the iron coffin into a pulp.

He no longer cared where this rat came from, nor whether he was in cahoots with other little rats.

Now, he just wanted him to die!

"Go to hell!!"

"Daddy—!"

The half of the chainsaw smashed down toward the power armor on the ground, but the expected sensation of chopping steel didn’t come; instead, his chainsaw struck straight through the elevator cabin floor, its blunt teeth catching in the dented and broken metal plate.

His attack seemed to have been anticipated.

The human in the clunky iron armor rolled aside, dodging this lethal strike, crashing into one side of the elevator cabin, and setting up his Gauss Rifle.

Of course, he wouldn’t let this guy succeed. With a fierce sweep of his left arm, the club-like gun barrel sent the high-tech rifle flying straight out.

"Bang—!"

The flicker of an electric arc released, the scorching trajectory nearly passing between them, blasting a large hole in the elevator car.

Oru bared his teeth in a ferocious grin, released the jammed half of the chainsaw, and somersaulted onto the power armor, restraining its joints, pressing a fist-sized gun barrel directly against its neck.

However, an unexpected event occurred for Oru.

Almost at the moment he pulled the trigger—or perhaps a second before—the power armor he straddled raised its right hand, fiercely pushed the muzzle against its own chest, and clung onto it desperately, nearly welding his gun barrel onto its breastplate.

The color drained from Oru’s face as he grasped the gun barrel, instinctively sensing danger from the human’s actions, but it was already too late.

Gunpowder detonated with a thunderous roar; energy with nowhere to escape blew open the breech, and the searing sparks mixed with charred flesh spiraled wildly throughout the elevator car.

Oru screamed in pain, his left arm partially shattered, blood streaming down, no longer able to discern where was blood and where was machine, stumbling backward as he collapsed to the ground.

Night Ten’s breastplate bore a shallow dent from the lead bullet’s kinetic force, he grunted and leaned back to the ground; though equally unpleasant, he was still far better off than the vicious man who welded the gun barrel to himself.

"... I told you, I’m your daddy."

With a twisted smile, Night Ten struggled to rise from the ground, approaching the mutant named Oru.

There was no signal in the elevator shaft; he wasn’t worried about the guy calling for backup, but considering the cockroach-like resilience of mutants, it was better to finish him off sooner rather than later.

Sensing the threat of death, Oru struggled to crawl from the ground.

But Night Ten gave him no chance to catch his breath, pulling out the combat dagger strapped to his waist, viciously stabbing it toward his eye socket.

"Roar—!"

The dagger jammed in the eye socket; Oru let out a pained howl but didn’t succumb, his right fist violently smashing towards Night Ten’s head.

The guy’s will to live was indeed uncommonly tenacious, still struggling in such a condition.

The helmet took a solid punch; prepared for it, Night Ten’s head only slightly jolted, without pause, he swung his fist, hammer-like, onto the hilt of the dagger.

Crack—

The blunt sensation of metal cleaving through flesh and bone transmitted from his fist; the dagger skewered through Oru’s skull, pinned in place.

Oru convulsed as if electrocuted; his left eye rolled upward, and he stilled completely.

Worried the guy wasn’t dead, Night Ten slashed at him a few more times, turning the elevator car into a bloody mess, the blood plasma almost soaking the floor.

"Damn... He better be dead now."

Night Ten nearly out of strength, exhaled in relief, letting go of the now-motionless Oru, extracted the combat dagger from his body, glanced around, and couldn’t help but click his tongue.

The blood loss could rival a B-class horror film.

No wait, B-class films are nothing compared to this!

Is this what they call a fun game?

He silently criticized Brother Guang in his mind, Night Ten picked up the Gauss Rifle lying in a pool of blood, shaking off the clotted gore.

The rifle barrel was bent by the mutant’s blow, but the 15 Model "Python" was designed with a detachable barrel, so it wasn’t much affected.

Securing the Gauss Rifle behind him, Night Ten took a few photos of the synthetic mutant’s corpse, casually collected some debris, and hastily left the elevator car for the safety tunnels.

Although the mutant named Oru came down to face him alone, clearly, there were more than just that "big guy" surrounding him.

Four or five mutants crouched at the safety tunnel’s stairway entrance, the visible murderous intent almost spilling out of their retinas.

Although their killer instinct was evident, these low-level thugs were nowhere near as tough as the modified elite I just faced.

Realizing he couldn’t breach the barrage of gunfire, Night Ten simply retreated back to Level B1 through the stairwell, slapped a C4 on the ceiling, and turned to enter a nearby room.

"Come on down!" A sinister smile curled on his lips as he tightened his grip on the detonator.

With a loud boom echoing through the hallway, the explosion’s shockwave not only shattered the ceiling but also caused the old concrete slabs to collapse entirely.

The mutants stationed at the first floor’s emergency exit had no time to react and fell down with the debris into the billowing dust below.

If it had been ordinary humans, they would have been killed instantly by the blast, but the mutants shook their heads, took a moment to rest, and were soon ready to go again.

Not giving them a chance to catch their breath, Night Ten stepped over the concrete rubble and walked forward, shooting each of their heads to make sure they were dead.

The explosion inside the building caught the attention of the mutants training on the street. Night Ten didn’t dare use the main entrance but instead exited through the back door onto the street.

Almost as soon as he reached the street, blinding headlights from both sides flared up.

Through his tactical goggles, Night Ten saw two pickups with welded steel plates, their roof-mounted machine guns aimed directly at him.

"Shit—"

His face changed slightly as he was about to seek cover when two missiles whistled down from the night sky, the resulting explosion almost instantaneously engulfing the pickups in flames.

The mutants lit by the fire clumsily jumped out of the vehicles while gunfire erupted from the other side of the street.

Simultaneously, the sounds of gunfire rang out from the other side of the street. Brother Fang Chang, who had previously covered the guerrilla team’s retreat, had returned with his group.

A familiar voice, long missed, came through the communication channel.

"Night Ten! How’s it looking over there?"

Hearing that voice, like music to his ears, Night Ten excitedly replied.

"Brother—"

"Stop the fucking chit-chat and get over here!!!"

The rough voice interrupted him without any niceties.

"Heh heh, Roger that!" Night Ten said with an embarrassed chuckle and immediately ran towards the rendezvous point without pausing.

The distant clamor of mutants and the cacophony of gunshots chased after the fleeing group, ending at the street corner.

Night Ten quickly met up with Brother Fang Chang’s Team B and together rushed to the extraction point.

The extraction point was the open parking lot of an abandoned building, just 300 meters away. The "Viper" transport plane was waiting in the center of that parking lot.

They hastily boarded the aircraft and the pilot immediately increased the altitude, maneuvering the VTOL transport plane towards the outskirts.

The crisis was finally over.

Watching the brightly lit half of the city recede into the distance, Night Ten finally breathed a sigh of relief and looked over at Brother Fang Chang sitting opposite.

"Why did you come back? I thought you retreated."

Before Brother Fang Chang could speak, Quit Smoking patted his shoulder with a laugh.

"Brother, a million bucks! We would’ve been fools to leave you behind!"

Another teammate also joked with a smile.

"Yeah, at the very least, we had to pick up your body."

Night Ten: "Damn! Are you that heartless?"

Brother Fang Chang rolled his eyes.

"Cut the crap, what the hell did you do just now?"

Recalling the tense and thrilling experience he just had, Night Ten let out a sigh.

"It’s a long story. The mutants found my building and planned to sneak up on me; I sensed it early and tried to go down via the elevator. But those guys have no honor—guess they heard the noise in the elevator shaft and cut the cable on me..."

"Well, the thought process wasn’t bad. Quick action might have caught them off-guard, but your gear..." Brother Fang Chang looked at his power armor with a complex expression, "Weren’t you afraid of getting stuck in it?"

Embarrassed, Night Ten scratched the back of his head, and suddenly remembered something important, quickly changing the subject.

"Speaking of which, those mutants were a bit peculiar."

As he spoke, he removed a piece of wreckage from the power armor.

The object was black and grimy, covered with charred blood and flesh scraps, making it impossible to tell where it had come from.

The players leaned in to take a closer look but couldn’t figure it out either.

Brother Fang Chang furrowed his brows.

"What’s this...?"

With earnest eyes, Night Ten replied, "Modified prostheses! I took it off that elite—no, that BOSS I just fought."

Hearing his response, the players were suddenly amazed and exclaimed.

"Holy shit?! Prostheses?!"

"Mutants?!"

"Are you sure you weren’t seeing things?"

Seeing his buddies doubt him, Night Ten got worked up.

"I couldn’t possibly have seen it wrong, I stabbed my dagger right into his head."

He vividly described the appearance of the synthetic mutant and how dire the situation was.

Only after talking himself hoarse and satisfied did he share the photos he had taken with his teammates’ devices, which earned him another eye roll from Brother Fang Chang.

Quit Smoking, however, listened intently, always one to believe whatever he was told, especially the dangerous fight in the elevator.

After Night Ten finished bragging, Quit Smoking couldn’t help but remark wistfully,

"Damn... Since when can mutants undergo modification surgery?"

"It’s not entirely inconceivable—the higher-ups of The Church aren’t just simple believers but are experts from the shelters. Religion seems more like a tool for them."

Brother Fang Chang stared intently at the photo on the VM screen, continuing,

"Come to think of it, I had a similar feeling earlier... those mutants, both in tactics and equipment, didn’t seem like your typical mutant tribe."

Old White also fell into contemplation.

"Hmm, especially those vehicles and weapons, they seem tailor-made for them."

A few players nearby exchanged glances.

It seemed that this mission to recover the nuclear fuel was not as simple as they had imagined...

The helicopter did not fly back to the base but instead headed to the suburbs a dozen kilometers away, where it landed on the edge of a forest in a relatively sparse area.

One good thing about this jet-powered helicopter was that there was no need to worry about the propellers disturbing the tree branches; it could practically land anywhere.

Another Viper also stopped nearby, where players who had previously retreated had lit a pile of fire and were sitting next to it.

There were also six guerrilla team members who had retreated with the players, two of whom were seriously injured and unconscious.

Seeing Old White and others approaching, Wild Wind casually threw the stick he was poking the fire with into the flames and got up to come over from beside the fire.

Beside him followed a middle-aged man with a scruffy beard, wearing a cement-gray coat with around his neck a scarf and an Iron Tower armband on his arm, carrying an assault rifle wrapped with cloth and tape.

He looked like an experienced old soldier.

"Thank you for your help."

"You’re welcome, but I’ve got quite a few complaints, and plenty of questions for you..." Old White stared at him for a moment and then got straight to the point, "Your name, who are you? And who sent you?"

Perhaps it was the directness of his question.

The atmosphere became a bit tense for a time.

The three guerrilla team members sitting by the fire tensed up as they took out the two unconscious people.

However, they clearly understood that they were no match for these "professionals" with their slick gear, so they wisely made no misconstrued moves.

The man’s expression was calm, looking at Old White as he spoke.

"Li Jinrong, you can call us ’Iron Tower.’ That’s the name of our organization. No one sent us here. We are not anybody’s subordinates. We fight for ourselves... Seeing you fire at those Mutants, I thought we could become allies."

Old White gave a faint smile.

"Whether we can become allies depends on your sincerity."

Li Jinrong looked at him and said,

"I believe sincerity is mutual."

Old White introduced himself succinctly.

"Old White, Alliance. As for the rest, no comment. We saved your lives; I think this sincerity is sufficient."

Hearing a few key words, a look of surprise flashed in Li Jinrong’s eyes as he looked at Old White incredulously,

"The Alliance... you are people of the Alliance? The one from the southern River Valley Province?"

"Yes, nothing can prove our identity better than this guy," Old White said while patting the LD-47 assault rifle hanging on the power armor, looking at him and raising an eyebrow, "It seems you have heard of us?"

Li Jinrong slowly nodded his head.

"I’ve heard that you beat up the Army in Falling Leaves Province with your shoddy gear... But it seems that the ’shoddy gear’ is a rumor."

Though the rifle looked a bit old-fashioned, neither the power armor nor the VTOL aircraft could be considered shabby.

Old White could feel that, upon learning they were people of the Alliance, this guy had not completely let his guard down, but his caution had clearly decreased significantly.

Clearly, reputation did have its advantages.

Just like the merchants from the Province of Yúnjiānxíng, who, whether or not they had been to Ideal City, liked to say they came from ’The Enterprise.’

Night Ten chuckled and interjected,

"The ’shoddy gear’ is definitely a rumor, but overall, those big noses have equipment that’s a bit stronger than ours."

Without letting Night Ten derail the topic, Fang Chang jumped into the conversation,

"Why the Champion Biological Pharmaceutical Research Institute?"

Li Jinrong hesitated slightly.

"Why do you mean by that..."

Fang Chang continued, looking him in the eye,

"If your target is the Mutants, there is more than one of their bases in the city. What do you all know about that facility?"

Li Jinrong scoffed.

"Mutants? We don’t care about those green-skinned guys; our target is that bunch of fanatics waving torches."

Quit smoking, "The Torch Church?"

"Yes... they destroyed our homeland, killed my family," the man said, a flame of hatred flickering in his eyes, "I don’t care about their plans. As long as I can take a bite out of them, I will do it."

"Coincidentally, we also have a bad relationship with those fanatics. They supported the Bone Chewing Chaos. In the Alliance, they are the ’xie sect.’" After a pause, Old White continued, "Our purpose in coming to Brocade River Province has to do with those spreading the plague everywhere, so is there any connection between that facility and the Torch Church?"

"I don’t know, but after those guys arrived in Brocade River City, their first stop was there. We followed them all the way from Haiye Province... But sadly, we were too weak. The locals preferred them to us, and we could only watch helplessly as they allied with the Mutants and turned this land foul, ultimately repeating our plight..."

As he spoke those words, Li Jinrong’s gaze was intense on Old White.

Old White knew what he was thinking.

But this was beyond his authority, and he needed to report the situation to the Manager for a decision.

"We have a common enemy; perhaps we can cooperate, but I am just an Army commander and can’t give you an immediate response."

"That’s alright. We can wait!"

To add weight to his words, Li Jinrong immediately continued, "We have more members than these few. We have outposts near each settlement!"

Old White nodded.

"I will report faithfully to our Manager."

"Haiye Province? Where’s that?" Night Ten and Quit smoking exchanged glances and muttered softly.

Quit smoking scratched his head, baffled.

But fortunately, Elder Fang was there.

"It’s to the south of Brocade River Province, located in the tropics with long coastlines and large hills and mountain ranges, with only a few plains... It’s said to be the stronghold of the Torch Church."

Looking towards the southern night sky, he paused before continuing,

"Death Coast is there."

That must be the closest the Alliance gets to the sea.