This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 630: Is This Enhancement for the Brain?

Chapter 630: Chapter 630: Is This Enhancement for the Brain?

The afternoon sunlight was perpetually stretched by the gray-green spores clouds, and although noon was when the mucosal entities were least active, this pattern reversed at the junction of spring and winter.

Even under the constraint of sunlight, the once-frozen entities were invigorated by the more suitable temperature, slowly exhaling a grisly gray gas from their mouths and nostrils.

However, perhaps because their prey had not yet appeared, they made no unnecessary movements.

They just stood silently on the ravaged streets, their eyes vacant, facing the direction where the breath of life was most vibrant.

As if waiting for something.

Soldiers of the Alliance watched them, light and heavy machine guns mounted on the edge of the windows.

Now was not the best time.

They, too, were waiting—waiting for the mucosal entities to gather on the streets and then to call in artillery to rip them apart, followed by using machine guns to harvest the remaining remnants...

The Alliance’s Defense Zone No. 6 was located at the waist of the entire 20-segmented defense line, a place not as critically pressured as zones 10 and 11, yet not as laid-back as zones 1 and 20, currently enjoying a moment of calm.

On the frontline at Position One, atop a reinforced abandoned office building.

Spring Water gazed through his binoculars, motionless, observing the direction to the north.

He watched as a four-wheel pickup, welded with steel bars and a bucket, emerged from the open gate under the cover of four players, racing towards the Eaters wandering perilously close to the position.

Apart from the driver, who was a level 20 veteran player, the other four were fresh newcomers to the game.

They clutched bolt-action rifles in their hands and carried crowbars or short knives on their backs, an ensemble even more "fashionable" than the Looters, with excitement etched on their faces.

"Awesome! Is this the Wasteland?"

"Is that a Zombie? It’s shorter than I imagined, and why aren’t they wearing clothes?"

"Fool! It’s been damn 200 years, how could they still have clothes?"

"What Zombies? That stuff is called ’Eaters’! They’re made from mushrooms!"

"Fuck? Mushrooms? Isn’t that pretty much the same as the Greenskins from Warhammer?"

"I think there’s still a pretty big difference..."

Worrying that the rookies might get carried away and fumble the actual work, the veteran player in the pickup honked the horn.

"Don’t daydream; focus on your targets. I’m not joking with you, you’re on the front line now, and this isn’t a game."

Their mission was straightforward.

That was to clear out the annoying Eaters in front of the position.

Although these creatures were not very powerful in combat, they would consume the machine gun ammunition on the Alliance’s side as cannon fodder. Periodically clearing them out before the Tide arrived was a routine for the defense zones prior to the incoming Tide.

"Big, big brother, what happens if... if you die in the game... will it affect reality?" A female player wearing a football helmet asked, both excited and nervous, gripping her rifle tightly.

Being called big brother for the first time, the level 20 player couldn’t help but smile awkwardly and tease.

"What happens when you wake up?"

The girl was startled for a moment.

"What happens..."

"You’ll wake up."

"Pfft."

It wasn’t that simple; he still remembered the first time he died, unable to log on for three days, feeling ants crawling all over his body, lying in bed at night unable to sleep with eyes wide open.

But after a few times, you get used to it.

People will inevitably feel uncomfortable when they enter a new environment, but after a while, most can adapt to the lifestyle of "switching between two worlds."

In the time it took to exchange these few words, the nearby Eaters had already gathered in this direction due to the irritating horn from before.

The veteran player coughed to end the idle chatter.

Looking at the approaching Eaters, the four rookies tensed their sensitive nerves in an instant.

A Strength-type player took the lead, raising his Ripper Rifle and pulled the trigger at the closest Eater.

A bang rang out, the bright flash surged forward, stones and dust kicking up on a nearby concrete block.

The enormous recoil hit his shoulder, pushing his body back.

Although he missed with that shot, the sight of blue smoke rising from the barrel thrilled the shooter like a 200-pound child, his face flushed with excitement.

The feel of it!

It was the real deal!

This was so much more fun than those water pellet guns!

Seeing the inexperienced expression, the veteran player in the pickup laughed.

Couldn’t hit a slow-moving target at thirty meters.

But he didn’t mock these beginners, just patiently offered advice.

"Don’t panic, you’re a Strength-type, you can definitely hold down the barrel. Remember to spread your legs front and back, bend your knees, lower your center of gravity, don’t stand there like a pole. If you encounter a Crawler, you won’t be able to escape—fuck, I didn’t say run, where are you going?"

"I’ll... I’ll kite a bit!" An Agility system player said, retreating while reloading his rifle.

The veteran player in the pickup couldn’t help but facepalm.

"It’s just a few Eaters, why kite them? Just use your sideknife and go for it! Stab their necks, use your rifle butt and smash their heads! It’s much faster than shooting!"

The veteran player kept shouting instructions from inside the truck, and with the continuous honking, the Eaters all began to surround his vehicle.

At level 20, he certainly wasn’t afraid of a few Eaters, he released the handbrake and stomped on the accelerator, the serrated bucket instantly flipping the Eaters that pounced on the hood.

Inspired by this, the four rookies gathered their courage, whipping out the crowbars and short knives strapped to their backs, and rushed towards the Eaters surrounding the pickup, howling.

With a flurry of clubs and knives flailing, black blood splattered across the battlefield and in just a moment, more than a dozen Eaters lay on the ground.

The fight lasted a good half hour.

The blood-soaked rookies gasped for air, their faces devoid of fatigue, instead filled with growing excitement.

At first, when they saw these menacing monsters, they were startled by the lifelike modeling.

But it turned out to be not much of an ordeal.

"Boss, these Eaters don’t seem too tough," said a Strength-type player, wiping the black blood from his face and smiling as he stood next to the pickup truck with his rifle in hand, "Are there any stronger Variants? The slightly more exciting kind."

The veteran player sitting on top of the vehicle lit a cigarette and laughed when he heard this.

"Stronger ones? Of course, there are! In a bit, I’ll take you to fight Dead Claws!"

Everyone’s eyes shone bright at his words.

"Really?!"

The veteran player replied heartily.

"Absolutely true, but let’s see if you survive the Tide first."

Death was a phase all players would eventually face; anyway, they were bound to die sooner or later, and dying early did have its benefits.

According to players’ experiences shared on the forum, most found their opportunities for growth after their first death.

Whether it was understanding the Game better or gaining combat experience, all would be sublimated upon resurrection after three days.

The cleanup of the Eater bodies concluded, and everyone began to clean up the battlefield.

Under the direction of the veteran player, four newbies grunted as they heaved the Eaters’ bodies onto the pickup truck.

The mucosal entity could be used to produce nutrient paste and fertilizers, and also for recycling vital materials for clone production.

These corpseloads could easily fetch dozens of silver coins each trip, and just a few more would earn you enough for an automatic rifle.

The Spring Water Commander, observing from the rooftop, saw everything from start to finish.

"Kakarot," carrying a rifle, came next to him and grinned.

"Not bad, the quality of these new players."

"Indeed."

Setting down his binoculars, Spring also smiled and said, "They remind me of us back in the day."

"Kakarot" laughed heartily.

The girl who previously asked "What happens if you die in the Game, in reality?" seemed timid, but performed much more composed during the battle than she appeared.

And the Strength-type player, though his first shot missed, quickly adapted to the recoil and trajectory of the Ripper Rifle and accomplished his first kill in the Game with the butt of his gun.

Storm Corps might not accept rookies below Level 10, but these veteran players always had the "Pass the Torch" mentoring missions, guiding fresh faces to acclimate to Wasteland OL’s current game pace.

These tender newbies might be a burden now, but they would eventually grow.

And by then, these once rookies would regard Storm Corps as their first choice.

So, he would often give the Corps members chances to take these newbies to front lines for experience during routine, less-critical combat tasks.

However, just then, something odd happened with the ashen-green fog not far from their position.

Spring’s brow furrowed slightly, and he lifted his binoculars to his eyes once again.

"Spore cloud activity is rising... The fog is drawing closer." After glancing at the air monitoring indicator, "Kakarot," standing beside him, spoke seriously.

Without hesitation, Spring immediately gave the command.

"Sound the alarm, prepare for battle."

"Roger!"

...

The gray-green fog rolled down the streets like a flood pouring down from the Nine Skies.

The veteran player sitting on the pickup sensed something amiss right away, and soon voices came over the comm channel.

"A large number of Variants are approaching your direction, retreat to the defense line immediately!"

"Damn!"

The veteran player cursed under his breath, stuck his head out the window, and called out to the players still grunting as they moved bodies.

"Stop loading, get in the truck!"

The four of them were stunned, but seeing that the boss was not joking, they quickly dropped the Eater bodies and jumped into the back of the pickup.

The veteran player swung the steering wheel and immediately glanced at the central display screen.

Air spore concentration index, 477!

Good heavens, it had jumped by 70 in just a few seconds!

Driving without hesitation, he stepped hard on the accelerator, heading towards the open gates at the rear.

But at that moment, dozens of round, plump masses suddenly drew parabolic arcs from above, trailing ashen-green plumes of smoke as they crashed thirty meters ahead of him.

With a sizzle, those round, crimson masses burst on impact, exploding into a dense fog, like a solid wall.

Having never seen such bizarre Variants, the veteran player’s eyes widened.

Martyrs?!

No—

They didn’t seem like that!

Although Martyrs also released many spores upon exploding, they mainly relied on kinetic and thermal energy to harm prey, without producing nearly as many spores!

With his left hand, he hastily grabbed a gas mask and put it on, then bellowed into the comm channel.

"Put on gas masks!"

His decision proved to be right.

Unfortunately, he had still underestimated the potency of these things.

Not only spores came from those meatballs but also countless droplets of digestive fluid smaller than 1μm in diameter.

These droplets, rich in organic acids and enzymes, drifted in the air, forming a dense aerosol with the spores.

His pickup had barely broken into the thick fog when the exposed skin began to prickle painfully, followed by extensive ulceration.

The painful itching sensation was precisely on the threshold of triggering pain blocking, causing both pain and itch that was maddeningly irresistible.

"Ah, ah, ah—!"

The veteran player floored the accelerator, gripping the steering wheel tightly with both hands.

However, just as the pickup was about to burst through the fog, a chunk of flesh falling from the sky suddenly smashed into the front of the left tire.

The sudden explosive impact tipped the pickup to the right, slamming it hard against a concrete block on the road’s edge.

The veteran player in the driver’s seat almost passed out from the shock, while the four newbies in the back lurched forward, nearly rolling onto the hood.

Even though the bumper had been replaced with a bulldozer blade, people are not made of iron.

"Damn it, bro, can’t you drive?!" The Strength-type player scrambled up from the ground, his head spinning, his face a mask of shock.

"Shut up!"

The veteran player, looking sour, was about to reverse back onto the road when suddenly, a tremor shaking the ground came from a nearby alley.

His pupils dilated instantly, almost instinctively pulling an assault rifle from the passenger seat and chambering a round.

And at the same time, two monsters, half their bodies covered in crimson flesh, bolted out of the alley, roaring with gaping maws.

"What the fuck?!"

What the hell was that?!

Not only was the veteran player in the pickup stunned, but Spring Water, watching from the rooftop, was equally dumbfounded.

Another unseen Variant!

The concentration of spores was gradually increasing, rendering it impossible to see the ground with the naked eye.

But Spring Water was quick to respond, immediately issuing orders through the communications channel.

"Position 2 ready, lock on target in the northwest sector, heavy machine gun squad, fire!"

"Recon team, unload the bodies from the carriage, bring back one of those big ones!"

An unexpected Variant had appeared outside the defense area.

They had to figure out what that thing was!

Two crisp responses immediately came through the communication channel.

"Roger that!"

From the building beneath Spring Water’s feet, around the tenth floor, a shadowy window suddenly burst with a long stream of fire.

A Strength-type player sat behind that spew of fire, operating a 20mm rapid-fire cannon.

Tracers soared toward a corner of the street, the monster infected by the mucosal entity took a burst to the chest, blowing blood mist and stumbling backward.

Watching the heavy tracers dancing on the concrete floor, listening to the whistling overhead, the newbies next to the pickup felt their blood surge.

They had only seen such intense warfare in the promotional videos released on the official website.

Standing there in person was a completely different experience.

Surging adrenaline involuntarily shook their bodies, every cell exhilarated to the extreme.

Yet, it seemed there was nothing they could do.

Supporting fire from the rear had dealt with the Variants that had charged at them. Just as the Strength-type player was hesitating whether to approach and finish them off, the veteran player, crouching out of the driver’s seat, threw him a bundle of rope as thick as a thumb.

"Tie the rope around that monster’s right leg! Make sure the knots are tight!"

The Strength-type player paused, confused.

"But the machine gun fire is still going—"

"Trust your teammates! They’ve got eyes! Hurry up!" The veteran player, in a rush, interrupted him and with his own bundle, crouched down and ran toward the monster’s left leg.

Though still scared, seeing the boss going ahead, the Strength-type player bit his lip and charged forward as well.

Sure enough, just as they advanced, the barrage of bullets also shifted forward with their steps.

The heavy glow acted like a shield guarding them, suppressing the Variants in the alley, preventing them from crossing the dense fire network.

The Strength-type player quickly secured the rope, seeing his boss who had already tied his rope moving towards the pickup, he followed in pursuit.

But at the very moment he returned to the road, a dark figure suddenly burst from the wall-like fog.

Its outline slightly resembled that of a crocodile with a flat, elongated mouth, muscular lower limbs like a bull’s, and a tail stretched straight back for balance.

However, the creature had no scales, just crimson membranes and scarred skin that looked like a plucked turkey.

The creature’s speed was incredible.

So much so that before he even got a clear look, the veteran player was sent flying by an impact.

It seemed that in this game, Awakeners’ lives weren’t much tougher than ordinary people’s; when trouble hit, a wipeout was still a wipeout.

Perhaps with an exoskeleton, the situation would have been far better, but unfortunately, his boss hadn’t brought one.

Without even a chance to scream, the veteran player’s neck was bitten through.

Then the crocodile-like Variant pounced on him, feasting avidly.

"Crack—!"

Hearing the clear sound of snapping bones, the Strength-type player felt chills down his spine, his limbs involuntarily cold.

In just a breath’s time, the leader who had been leveling him up had been instantly taken down.

Was this the Wasteland?

But there was no time left for hesitation.

Looking at the two ropes tied to the back of the pickup, he immediately knew his task, ignoring everyone else, he dashed toward the driver’s seat.

A sharp roar came from behind him, followed by a short scream of agony.

The female player who had set out with them seemed to have been dragged into the thick fog by something.

The other two saw this and wanted to help, but they didn’t get off two shots before a large hand extended from the fog pulled them in as well.

The support machine gun at the rear unleashed fierce firepower toward the fog, but the glows of the night appeared to be swallowed up, without a hint of noise coming through.

Observing all this from the rooftop, the Spring Water Commander’s face was filled with gravity.

It seemed that the mucosal creatures had learned their lesson.

They no longer launched massive assaults on human defenses, attempting to overcome them with numbers, but instead cooperated with clear division of labor.

It was as if a noob who could only clumsily attack had suddenly learned how to micro-manage.

"...Has their brain been enhanced this time?"

Realizing this, his expression grew even more solemn.

He had to share this news on the official website later!

Meanwhile, the battle on the ground continued.

Seeing his teammates had bitten the dust, the Strength-type player dared not linger in combat and scurried into the driving cabin of the pickup truck, rolling and crawling.

Although it was his first time driving this thing, fortunately, the Alliance’s vehicles didn’t require much driving skill.

He clenched his teeth and slammed the accelerator, and the pickup truck quickly started, dragging the mutilated corpse of the monster toward the deepest part of Defense Line No.6.

The Variant with a swaying tail chased him for two steps, apparently trying to prevent him from bringing the monster’s corpse back.

But just then, the heavy machine gun fire nailed the creature, and after lingering for a few circles without success, it decisively gave up the pursuit and twisted into the gray-green fog.

The Strength-type player dared not look back, his right foot welded to the accelerator.

He made it through the gates before they closed and stormed in with the vehicle, then slammed on the brakes to stop the pickup by the roadside.

Several soldiers in exoskeletons quickly came over, cut the ropes on the back of the pickup with daggers, slipped the mutilated monster corpse into a body bag, and transported it to the rear with a forklift.

The Alliance’s Biological Institute would be responsible for testing the body.

With the organic fluid smeared on the left tire and the bucket, this time they at least could understand two of the Lair’s trump cards.

The Strength-type player sat in the driver’s seat, gasping for air, his heart pounding as he listened to the incessant gunfire in the distance.

Just ten minutes ago, he had thought the game’s monsters were too weak, posing no challenge to kill.

But in a short three minutes, his entire five-person squad had dwindled to just him...

This game was too damn realistic!

While he caught his breath, a man clad in heavy exoskeleton walked over from a distance.

Seeing that Turtle Shell with a cannon on its back, he instantly recognized the man’s identity—it was the Storm Corps’ leader, Spring Water Commander.

The man hurried out of the truck, looking awkwardly at the dented and pocked vehicle, embarrassedly lowering his head as he said.

"Sorry, I... only came back alone..."

"No need to apologize. Under those circumstances, you did very well. For most people, understanding what to do on their first battlefield is already impressive," Spring Water didn’t blame him and instead encouraged him with a pat on the shoulder, smiling as he asked, "What’s your name?"

Newbie: "Surplus Egg Brother!"

Spring Water paused.

Santa Claus?

Do normal IDs like this still exist nowadays?

Regardless, he saw potential in this fellow and casually extended an olive branch.

"Interested in joining us at the Storm Corps?"

The newbie’s heart skipped a beat at the offer, immediately nodding excitedly.

"Yes! Of course!"

Spring Water smiled and said,

"Alright! From now on, you’re our reserve member! When you reach Level 10, I’ll officially bring you in."

The Strength-type newbie’s heart swelled with joy. His earlier fright melted away, leaving only a grinning smile.

First, he drew the one-in-a-million closed beta access, and now an invitation from a top-tier corps on the server!

This was protagonist treatment!

Wait—

Following the usual routine of online gaming novels, as the protagonist, shouldn’t he casually decline to seem cooler?

Unaware of the newbie’s wild thoughts, Spring Water simply thought he’d recruited a newbie with decent potential.

Brave and sensible, not panicking under pressure—he had a bit of that newbie vibe from the Old Soldier back in the day—good enough to make use of.

Satisfied, Spring Water nodded and prepared to return to his position.

As Spring Water turned to leave, Surplus Egg Brother, caught up in his fantasies, suddenly remembered something and called out to him.

"Wait... What will happen to them?"

Spring Water stopped walking and glanced back.

"Them?"

Surplus Egg Brother swallowed nervously.

"The ones dragged into the fog..."

"...Hard to say." Spring Water was silent for a while before shaking his head.

He had been captured by mucosal creatures in the Tide before, but that mother creature quickly lost interest in him and killed him in an instant; he hadn’t even seen clearly how he’d been killed.

This time, it was a completely different mother creature, so he couldn’t say what might happen.

However, the silver lining was that this time, three had been taken away.

Once he got to the Forum, he might hear some clues that would interest him...