This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 705: The "Elite" That Collapses Upon Touch

Chapter 705: Chapter 705: The "Elite" That Collapses Upon Touch

Caper was a member of the Wolf Tribe.

From a young age, his parents repeatedly told him about the teachings of the Wolf God, explaining how the wolves were united, how they were ferociously brave, tireless, and how they were invincible in battle. There was a time when the wandering wolves on the wasteland were the main threat faced by the survivors of Poluo Province...

Eventually, the survivors won, but their victory was hard-earned. To honor this respectable adversary and to inherit their bravery, they planted a totem in the City of Thousand Pillars dedicated to their deities, hoping to continue benefiting from their blessings.

From that moment, the Wolf God had his first followers.

Those blessed by the Wolf God were not only natural warriors but also the pride of the Empire; they were born for battle and conquest.

Because of this, Caper was constantly proud of his identity as a member of the Wolf Tribe and ceaselessly strove to become a soldier in the Empire Army.

Through dedication, fueled by adequate nutrition and early exposure, among thousands of peers who enlisted, he stood out. He was first selected for training in the recruit camp and later, due to his outstanding performance, he was assigned to the directly imperial-reporting Gray Wolf Army and groomed as a reserve officer.

Not all from the Wolf Tribe had the opportunity to join the Gray Wolf Army, nor did all have a chance to become officers in this elite force.

He was the pride of his parents and his people, and the person who bestowed upon him this honor was none other than the great Witch Xi Lan—the supreme emperor.

He swore to bring glory to the emperor, to repay the immense imperial grace, and aspired to establish more military merits, even to become a general above tens of thousands.

Now, he finally had his opportunity—to offer his fierce wolf-like battle will in loyalty to the emperor!

However, at this moment—

The scene before him imprinted despair in his eyes.

"Charge—!"

His ears, deafened by artillery, gradually lost their ringing, replaced by the commander’s hoarse bellowing, chaotic footsteps, and the tidal wave of battle cries and screams.

The situation before him was beyond his expectations.

And beyond everyone’s expectations.

The densely packed slums previously marked on the map had vanished, as if erased, leaving only rubble and broken bricks where mud houses and huts once stood.

He knew not what magic the Iron Men used, just that they relocated thousands of buildings originally here in just over a week.

From the nearest shelter to the towering Governor’s Mansion on the high ground, there was an open space of nearly six hundred meters.

This open space was like an insurmountable chasm, covered only with broken bricks and architectural debris.

To bypass this chasm from the sides, one had to either face crossfire coming from the direction of Lowell Camp or alternatively, swim across from a farther stretch of coastline.

That was even more impractical than crossing the six hundred meters.

And yet, they were already standing here.

There was no choice but to advance.

Urgent calls to combat rose again, and soldiers clutching their rifles charged toward the distant and unreachable Governor’s Mansion, only to inevitably fall down in swathes, like mowed wheat.

The barrages of bullets were like the blades of a rolling chainsaw; seeing the flesh and blood flying across the battlefield, Caper felt his heart nearly leap from his throat.

It was the first time he felt life was so insignificant, and the first time he saw unprecedented fear on the faces of his comrades beside him.

This was not battle—

"This is simply a suicide mission!"

In the blink of an eye, a hundred-man team had already been wiped out.

Lying on the ground covered with broken bricks, allied troops pinned down by the machine guns mounted on the Governor’s Mansion rooftop could neither move nor stop moaning in pain; some struggled to crawl forward.

There were no covers around to shield them as they advanced.

Only the bodies of fallen comrades covered the ground...

Rifles from within the city fired toward the Governor’s Mansion, but the preemptively established fire points were hardly suppressed by these efforts.

The Alliance soldiers had welded gun shields made of steel on their machine guns, not to mention the thick armor they wore.

Seeing the previous hundred-man team nearly annihilated, the commander turned to those behind him and roared loudly.

"Quick! Charge!!"

Watching the insurmountable position and allies scattered messily on the ground, terror flickered in Caper’s eyes.

Nevertheless, the order to attack had been given, and if he dared hesitate even for a moment, a fate worse than death awaited him.

This was, after all, the path he had chosen.

Caper clenched his teeth, striving to conquer the fear in his heart, and squeezed out a furious roar from between his clenched teeth.

"For the Empire—!"

Amid the sporadic shouts that responded, he emptied his mind and charged out of the cover, howling madly with ten comrades following him.

However, no sooner had he taken his first step than a mortar shell landed nearby, blasting him into the air like a torn rag, flung to the ground.

His followers met the same fate; over twenty years of sweat and pride turned into a thick pool of blood, carelessly smeared across the ground littered with broken bricks...

...

Caper and his men were neither the first nor obviously the last Wolf Tribe members to shed their blood for the Empire in this battle.

A new round of shelling struck six hundred meters in front of the Governor’s Mansion, in the slum, engulfing Gray Wolf soldiers who had been shooting near mud houses and those who had just crossed the cover to mount another assault.

There were about a hundred buildings there yet to be demolished.

However, the residents had already evacuated with their demolition compensation, leaving only armed individuals; the Alliance could fire without any concerns.

Simultaneously, machine-gun positions deployed on the rooftop and courtyard walls of the Governor’s mansion unleashed ferocious firepower, bullets seemingly endless, rattling non-stop.

The pride of the Wolf Tribe fell in swathes, and in the blink of an eye, another hundred-man team was pinned dead on a battlefield strewn with broken bricks and blood.

Streams of tracer bullets fell like a torrential downpour; here, the life expectancy of soldiers could nearly be counted in seconds.

The Rat Clan youth who once swore like the Iron Man indeed kept his promise—letting the Empire’s soldiers fight lying atop broken bricks.

At this moment, the first thousand-man team assaulting the Governor’s Mansion encountered the predicament of being used for target practice, having left behind over five hundred corpses without achieving any results apart from depleting some of the Alliance’s ammunition.

"Damn! I remember this place used to be a slum!"

Looking toward the ceaselessly firing machine guns, a leader hiding behind a mud house cursed.

He had a bandage wrapped around his forehead and wore a steel helmet just picked up; a shard had previously grazed his forehead, nearly killing him instantly.

Originally, they only needed to dash across one street, and at most, they would have faced casualties in the hundreds before engaging in close combat with the soldiers of the Alliance.

However, now a street just a few steps wide had been stretched into a 600-meter-long road of death.

Not only did they lack the cover of armored units, but they were also severely short on essential artillery, instead being dizzyingly bombarded by the Alliance’s cannons and machine guns.

"We have already lost more than half of our troops! Continuing to fight like this is no different from sending them to death, we need artillery support! I repeat! We need support!" shouted the leader after grabbing a walkie-talkie from the signalman carrying the radio.

He had called for artillery support ten minutes ago.

Prince Dilip personally promised him that the rear artillery was getting ready and would soon rain down on the enemy’s position, urging him to advance quickly.

But as he saw his forces nearly wiped out, the shells were still nowhere to be seen, and he felt like he was bitten by a dog.

A crackling of electrical static was followed by an awkward voice from the handset.

"I’m coordinating... Damn, what is Arai Yang, that idiot, doing! I’ve been calling for artillery for ages, and not even a shadow of a shell has appeared..."

Listening to the nonsense coming over the phone line, the leader felt a creepy tingle on his scalp, yet he couldn’t really blame the fellow.

He swallowed and, with a trembling voice, reminded him.

"Sir... What about your direct artillery division?"

The Alliance’s firepower was too fierce, and accurate to boot; any attempt to fire a few rounds would probably mean they had to duck back into their holes—providing support was indeed difficult.

If it came down to it, they might as well have trucks tow the cannons into the urban area and set them up on the front line pointing directly at the Governor’s Mansion—anything would be better than standing around helplessly.

He was about to suggest just that when there was silence on the other end of the radio before a muffled response came through.

"...There was a problem earlier counteracting the Alliance’s artillery; I can’t contact them at the moment, so we can only hope that idiot Arai Yang figures something out."

Hearing this, the leader nearly spat out a mouthful of blood.

The while they were still hiding in the trenches, the six cannons General Arai Yang had allocated to this fool had been obliterated by the enemy.

Countering enemy artillery without frontline scouts to correct their aim...

This guy must be insane.

Even if he guessed where the Alliance’s artillery was positioned, did this pig know where his own shells were even falling?

"Lord Dilip, if this continues, even more lives won’t be enough..." the leader gritted his teeth and said, "Please, allow us to withdraw—"

Before he could finish, the person on the other end of the communications channel, like a rat whose tail had been stepped on, jumped up yelling.

"No retreat! You are soldiers of the Empire, now is the time to show your loyalty to His Majesty. Are your oaths just paper to wipe your ass with!"

"It’s only 600 meters! Charge! By nightfall, I want to see the Double Knife Flag flying on the rooftop of the Governor’s Mansion!"

Hearing such an unrealistic order, the leader could no longer contain the rage in his chest and yelled into the walkie-talkie.

"Lord Dilip! This is not your backyard! This is the frontline! The frontline! The Alliance’s machine guns are practically on our faces, let alone 600 meters, we can’t even push past 60 meters! Why don’t you come to the frontline and see for yourself what kind of hell this place is!"

"I say it again, no retreat!"

Prince Dilip screamed hysterically in the communications channel, utterly refusing to believe that this short distance could stop a force of thousand troops.

Only six hundred meters, even if a person laid down every meter, they could still charge forward with over four hundred men. All they needed to do was to take down the machine gun positions of the Alliance, and the four thousand-team squads left in his hand would instantly overrun the guards in the Governor’s Mansion like a tsunami.

Not waiting for the Thousands of leaders to make excuses, he continued roaring.

"And are you pigs?! Who told you to crash into the Alliance’s gun sights? Can’t you think a bit and weave through the alleys—"

"There isn’t a single house left here! The Alliance has already cleared this area completely! How many times do I have to tell you, there’s not one building left! They even moved most of the architectural debris!"

The morale had dropped to a critical point, the soldiers hiding behind cover didn’t even have the courage to poke their heads out and shoot at the Alliance.

In this condition, sending them up to die would likely lead to the death of all his soldiers under him before those mutinous soldiers would dispose of this Leader of Thousands.

Holding the phone, Prince Dilip widened his eyes, unable to believe both the offensive tone on the other end of the call and the news he was hearing.

He wasn’t deaf.

Although he hadn’t seen the front lines, since the fighting had started, he had been hearing reports that the Alliance had evacuated the residents near the Governor’s Mansion and demolished their houses.

However, in his initial assessment, even if that section of the city had no intact buildings remaining, there should have been significant amounts of building debris and undulating dirt mounds left.

They couldn’t compare to trenches, but they should have been enough to cover the advancing infantry.

It should have been...

"How is this possible..." Prince Dilip’s voice trembled, his measured tone involuntarily carried a hint of helpless panic.

The Leader of Thousands roared uncontrollably,

"What’s impossible! Bombard them with cannons, blow them up with dynamite, hammer them, even pull down the house beams with ropes. Don’t you know what kind of shabby houses those poor devils lived in?! Do you think their dog kennels are made of concrete like the Governor’s Mansion? If left alone, they would collapse by themselves!"

"Those maggots, those cunning rats... they dare, they dare stand with the Alliance! I’ll slaughter them!"

A painful groan escaped Prince Dilip’s mouth.

Even though this was his first time moving from the sand table to the actual battlefield, he understood the emotion of defeat could spread among the soldiers like a plague before him.

Even though he racked his brains and couldn’t think of the next step, he knew he couldn’t hesitate any longer—he had to do something before the front line collapsed!

Once the defensive line collapsed—

The consequences were unimaginable!

"You all pull back first... Switch to the second squad. Wait, before the second squad takes over, hold on a little longer, be sure to maintain the front!"

Hearing that yielding tone, the Leader of Thousands finally breathed a sigh of relief, a heart hanging in his throat finally settled.

Although the guy’s orders were unclear, even changing within a single sentence, he could roughly understand the intention.

Just being able to retreat and regroup was enough.

Silently praying for the comrades who would go up to top off, he hung up the phone and pushed the communications soldier carrying the radio, yelling toward the front line positions.

"Hold on! Friendly forces will soon come to relieve me—"

The latter half of his sentence froze in his throat when the Leader of Thousands shifted his gaze toward the flank of the positions in that instant, his entire face imprinted with horror.

He saw a giant crab, four to five meters tall, moving its metal-laden mechanical legs, circumventing a row of collapsed debris and attacking their flank.

What in the world was that?!

Thousands of leaders had a look of confusion written all over his face.

Two thick gun barrels, or perhaps cannon barrels, extended forward from above those solid and powerful pincers, directly targeting the Wolf Tribe warriors crouched motionless behind the dilapidated houses and shacks not far ahead.

The scene before him was so shocking that the Y-2 drone, the "Hellhound" unmanned vehicle, and the dozen or so soldiers armed to the teeth in exoskeletons trailing the giant crab seemed negligible.

Before he could react, those two cannons spewed out thick tongues of flame, unleashing a ferocious barrage on his subordinates!

"Bang, bang, bang—!"

There wasn’t even time for a scream.

Dozens of soldiers hiding behind cover were instantly crushed into fragments and pulp along with the barriers in front of them.

Empty cartridges continuously ejected from the chambers, clinking loudly as they hit the ground, alongside the shattered remnants of bodies.

The look of confusion turned to one of horror, not just on the face of the frontline commander but also among the soldiers firing from behind cover.

They had never encountered such a brutal foe!

The bullets from the Ripper Rifles were like mere tickles to it, utterly ineffective, and their cover was as fragile as paper mache in the face of those relentless cannons.

The soldier carrying the Iron Fist Rocket Launcher was pinned down by the barrage, unable to raise his head, or was identified and had his head blown off by a drone whizzing overhead.

The Alliance had deployed more than just one "King Crab" to the battlefield, although most people’s attention was captured by the conspicuous behemoth.

Six "King Crab" amphibious all-terrain infantry armors shielded six mechanized squads, attacking from six different directions.

In just a few breaths, the flank of Prince Dilip’s first thousand team was torn apart like an avalanche.

No longer able to suppress the fear inside, the soldiers crouching behind cover ignored the threats shouted by their superiors and scrambled to drop their weapons and turn to flee.

Their frantic scramble was like that of panic-stricken rats.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!"

"Monster!!"

"Devil! The Alliance has summoned the devil!"

It wasn’t just their physical line of defense that was shattered, but also that deep-seated barrier of arrogance and confidence inside them.

At that moment, they cursed the Wolf God for not giving them an extra pair of legs to flee faster from this hellish place.

The atmosphere of despair and fear, as the routed soldiers fled, collided with the second thousand team who were striding confidently to the front lines.

Everyone was in disbelief at what they saw until those vicious "King Crabs" chased after their comrades, appearing right in front of them...

...

While the elites of the West Winds Empire were being beaten into a frantic retreat, the prop bearer leading the third hundred team attacking the flank of the battlefield realized that his six mechanized squads had actually moved from the flank to the front lines.

The empire’s troops they had bitten into on the flank didn’t put up even a semblance of resistance and threw down their weapons to flee.

So, instead of the intended envelopment of the thousand soldiers, they ended up in an unexpected encounter with another reinforcement team of a thousand.

These fresh troops from the Wolf Nation were also tough fighters, perfectly exemplifying what it meant to bang one’s head against a steel plate, engaging in firefights with Alliance players in narrow alleys without any preparation.

Initially, the prop bearer had planned to have each squad retreat and drag this stubborn Wolf pack to the Governor’s Mansion Battlefield, where the second team stood firm, for a final harvest. However, despite facing no armored units that could pose a real threat, these guys were audacious enough to charge in. Once they realized they couldn’t chew through the tough bone in their mouths, they began to flee en masse.

The enemies were practically feeding their heads into his team’s mouth, and if he didn’t take a bite, he was afraid he’d be ridiculed by his teammates for a week.

As he saw the frontline reinforcement troops from the West Winds Empire also starting to collapse, the prop bearer pressed his hand on his helmet and bellowed into the all-team channel.

"Attention all units—!"

"Advance beyond the line marked on the map! Free fire! Don’t spare your ammo, beat the shit out of them! Keep firing until your magazines are empty, then head home!"

His call was met with excited shouts.

"Roger!"

"Let’s go, brothers!"

"For the Alliance!!!"

"Awoo, awoo, awoo!"

With the attack order issued, several "King Crab" all-terrain infantry armors swung their crab legs and, under the cover of the infantry, bulldozed forward past low shanties.

Everyone was seeing red.

Especially the Intelligence System players nestled inside the mechanical crab’s belly, almost each holding a digital tally of kills in the triple digits.

The quad-rotor drones flying ahead provided them with a top-down view, requiring them only to pull the trigger towards any human presence.

20mm armor-piercing incendiary bullets teamed with high-explosive bombs, they didn’t even need to aim. Just bulldoze forward and call it a day.

The Imperial soldiers trapped in the alleys were completely disoriented.

Initially, they could see where the tracers were coming from, but soon they couldn’t even see their attackers and were pinned to the ground.

"Hahaha! My Egarth is killing like crazy!"

Listening to the maniacal laughter over the squad channel, the nearby players advancing in coordination cast envious glances at the guy who was showing off.

"Damn it, get down and let me have a turn!"

The Intelligence System player rolled his eyes.

"Buzz off! Do you think you can just press F to ride this thing? I trained for days in the City of Dawn!"

While they were talking, an Iron Fist Rocket Launcher suddenly shot out from a nearby alley and struck one of the mechanical legs spot-on.

Maybe because the display was too arrogant, even the heavens couldn’t stand it—the metal jet just happened to puncture the leg’s power unit, causing the crab to slump and lose balance, toppling a mud house beside it.

The Imperial soldier wielding the rocket launcher was quickly riddled with holes, but the downed giant crab on the ruins couldn’t get up, as if it was drunk.

After all, it was just a prototype straight out of the lab—its avant-garde design filled it with too many uncertainties.

Even if it could walk with three legs broken in tests, it couldn’t withstand the complexities of an actual battlefield.

As he saw Imperial soldiers closing in, the Intelligence System player, who had been showing off just a second ago, instantly panicked and blurted out.

"Fuck! Lads, come protect me!"

The players who were already helping him aim twitched at the corners of their mouths upon hearing his frantic cry.

MMP!

There was a moment when they suddenly wanted to test just how tough the armor of this thing could be...

On the other side, at the north court wall of the Governor’s Mansion.

Watching as the group of Gray Wolf soldiers receded like the tide, the player sitting at the machine gun position simply switched on the safety and cursed with a grimace.

"Damn it, these guys can’t take a hit at all."

When they first heard there were over five thousand people on the opposite side, almost everyone thought a fierce battle would ensue, yet these so-called "elite" combatants turned out to be incredibly weak.

However, it was clear these guys had tried their best.

The correctional shots kept landing near the Governor’s Mansion, but it wasn’t long before they were repelled by the Alliance’s counter-bombardment.

They tried to break through the Governor’s Mansion’s machine gun fire with a human wave tactic, but they were firmly held back by several 10mm machine guns.

Normally, with ongoing casualties and no progress in the battle, the frontline commanders should have had some idea of the issues in their tactics and realized the problems with their combat approach.

Since supporting fire wasn’t available, they should have pushed the artillery to the front to use as direct fire, or dug more fortifications and built additional machine gun positions at the front line. Even if the battle turned into a prolonged war of attrition instead of a quick decisive attack, it would be better than letting soldiers charge forward without artillery cover.

But they didn’t do that; it was as if they were in a rush to get reincarnated, forcing a quick outcome of the battle.

Not only the player bracing the machine gun couldn’t understand, but even Sniper Bai inside the Governor’s Mansion also couldn’t figure out if these guys were here to fight or to fertilize the fields...

...

On the other side, Jinjaron Port Harbor, inside the temporary command center, the noise was deafening.

Battle reports from the frontline floated in incessantly, and the command channel was a chattering mess.

"...This is Governor’s Mansion, the enemy frontline troops have collapsed! Are we continuing to hold here or should we pursue?"

"This is the Three Hundred Troops! We’re engaging with the enemy units that came as reinforcements! No enemy armor units detected, only a small number of anti-tank weapons... it seems like a thousand team, or possibly two, we plan to deplete our ammo then return."

"...damn it, we’ve got an idiot here, an ’Egarth’ got its legs busted! Coordinates are updated on the map, requesting support ASAP!"

"How many times have I said, don’t fucking nickname the equipment! Use the official codes!"

"This is the Four Hundred Troops, we’ve dispatched a squad for support, hold on!"

"I’m so hungry, when do we eat?"

"Who’s at the port? Ask the logistics NPC if we can have an extra dish."

"...Enemy reinforcements are crushed! Damn, these beasts retreated faster than a six-legged race; the brothers in Four Hundred Troops don’t need to come! We’ll find some folks later to help drag that damned stranded thing—"

"%￥#@!"

"Holy crap, what’s your Strength Type beast doing, needing to hire help for such a small job?!"

"This is Governor’s Mansion, our scout team has observed the Gray Wolf Army gathering towards ’Klabara Market!’ The target is five kilometers north of the Governor’s Mansion; they seem to be reorganizing their forces! Estimates show about two to three thousand in troops."

Although the communication channel was noisy, the feedback on the frontline situation was fairly clear, and Fang Chang had basically grasped the gist.

Even if the situation was a bit urgent or even complicated, these bastards wouldn’t be bullshitting on the command channel.

Old White turned to Fang Chang and casually said,

"What do you say? Do we wipe out these two to three thousand, or leave it to the rookies at Lowell Camp?"

Currently, nearly twenty thousand slaves had undergone basic training, at least knowing how to fire, when to fire, and how to seize objectives and advance.

Relying on them to defeat a well-trained army on the frontline was undoubtedly wishful thinking, but using them as Cannon Fodder with the support of Alliance’s artillery to clean up a defeated army was not a big problem.

At least it was worth a try.

However, unlike Old White, Fang Chang didn’t focus his attention on those two to three thousand retreating to the Klabara Market area, instead, he focused on the trenches outside the settlement.

"...Do you think there might be big shots from the West Winds Empire among these two to three thousand?"

Looking at Fang Chang who suddenly spoke, Old White hesitated for a moment, furrowing his brows.

"Why do you say that?"

"Just guessing."

Staring intently at the strategic map displayed on the holographic screen, Fang Chang pinched his chin between his index finger and thumb and fell into deep thought.

According to the information observed by Brother Kill Dagger’s scouts, the Gray Wolf Army stationed outside the settlement had new movements.

Although he was unsure why General Arai Yang would make a series of foolish moves, that guy had clearly noticed the trouble with his allies and was trying to make some remedial actions.

A ten thousand troops unit was gathering towards the outpost outside the settlement in batches, apparently planning to recover their front-line defeated allies.

At this moment, a bold idea emerged in Fang Chang’s mind.

"The identity even the highest commander of the Gray Wolf Army fears... what do you think it might be?"

Old White thought for a moment and said uncertainly,

"Imperial relatives?"

He wasn’t very familiar with the organizational structure of the West Winds Empire; after all, this bizarre survivor force was utterly different from any other survivor forces they had encountered.

However, since this so-called elite force was directly under the emperor of the West Winds Empire, whatever was making this "Imperial Guard Commander" nervous was clearly not likely to be a minor character like a eunuch.

Even if it was just for show, he had to try to save them, at least to not give the person behind them—or that force—a reason to complain.

Perhaps Arai Yang, in his heart, didn’t actually care about the life of the "VIP," but they could exploit this...

Grasping Fang Chang’s plan, Old White looked at him in surprise.

"You’re planning to encircle to relieve?"

"That’s what I’m thinking, but it also depends on whether they give us this opportunity. After all, these guys have always been beyond our expectations, and I severely doubt it’s any different this time..."

As he said this, Fang Chang paused for a moment, reached to his ear, and commanded the Kill Dagger stationed at Lowell Camp.

"Notify Laxi."

"It’s time for him to start working."

-

(It’s the end of the month, I’m shamelessly asking for a monthly pass, considering the updates have been stable as an old dog this month, cast a vote, brothers. QAQ)