Chapter 854: Expansion Release! 'Barbarian Invasion'!

Chapter 854: Expansion Update! "Southern Barbarian Invasion"!

"Fire!!!"

Just as the survivors of Golden Harbor were seething with indignation over the Legion's invasion, in the distant mountains at the border between Dog Province and Lion Province, cannons lurking in the woods let out a deafening roar at the same moment.

A rain of fire soared into the sky, then crashed heavily to the ground, engulfing the battlefield thirty kilometers away in a boiling sea of flames and smoke.

Those were the 155mm cannons sold by the Alliance to the Mammoth Kingdom.

At this moment, a full twenty-four of them were deployed on the front line, forming a full-strength battalion-level fire group!

Cannon after cannon fired continuously, unleashing twelve dense volleys of fire.

The coordinates of the bombardment were within Lion Province, on the position just abandoned by the First Ten-Thousand-Man Corps of the Brahman Kingdom.

Though that was Brahman territory, the Southern Legion had now torn off all pretense, and the Moon Tribe Resistance could no longer afford to care.

With the unleashing of these twelve volleys, the offensive of the Legion's 172nd Thousand-Man Corps finally ground to a halt, pinned down in the trenches left behind by the Brahman First Ten-Thousand-Man Corps.

After a relentless, unstoppable advance of over three hundred kilometers, the Legion's offensive had finally met its first pause.

And this was likely the greatest and most direct resistance the Southern Legion's front-line forces had encountered since landing.

Standing beside a group of artillerymen, [Warlike Wolf] sat on a tree stump with his eyes closed, "meditating."

After receiving word from Brother Dog on the front line offline, he immediately came online, opened his eyes, and called out to the battalion commander beside him.

"Time to pull back!"

The Southern Legion reacted swiftly.

Even as their mobile units pushed forward, they methodically completed the deployment of their artillery positions.

Though the steel airship was currently pinned near West Sailport, it was not the Legion's only support weapon.

According to intelligence gathered by Brother Dog, the enemy artillery units had already prepared counter-battery fire, and it wouldn't be long before ranging shots came in.

The battalion commander had been watching his men load and fire with gusto, but upon hearing the reminder from his Alliance comrade, it was like a bucket of cold water was poured over his head. His expression immediately turned serious.

"Understood!"

Without any hesitation, he grabbed his radio and issued the order to withdraw.

Soldiers in exoskeletons immediately moved forward, folding up the cannon mounts and expertly hitching them to the backs of light trucks.

They had rehearsed this entire sequence countless times and had executed it just as many times in combat against the Gray Wolf Army.

In less than a minute, the entire position was packed up, and the trucks towing the cannons sped away along pre-prepared side roads.

No sooner had they left than a deafening roar sounded not far behind them.

A ranging shell landed first in the woods.

Then, in less than half a minute, an even fiercer rain of fire than before began to pound down wave after wave.

Explosions and shrapnel tore through the forest, shredding ancient trees and leaving them scarred and splintered.

Watching the trembling woods behind them, the soldiers on the trucks wore expressions of lingering fear.

The Southern Legion reacted far faster than the Gray Wolf Army. When fighting alongside the Arayan forces in guerrilla actions, they'd even had time for a smoke before pulling out.

Here, there was no time for a smoke.

If they'd been even a dozen seconds later, they'd have left a leg behind in those woods.

"Did we hit anything? Heavy enemy losses?"

The battalion commander on the truck showed no fear, but looked eagerly at the Alliance brother, his face full of earnest inquiry.

Warlike Wolf glanced at his VM; there was no signal yet, so he said calmly.

"Our scouts are confirming. No rush."

In truth, he had already confirmed the results of the bombardment offline.

That earlier volley had really stung the Legion, and the current counterattack carried a note of frustrated rage.

But his Common Tongue was poor, and explaining would be too much trouble, so he didn't bother.

The battalion commander didn't press further, instead turning his gaze to the noisy forest behind them.

The thunderous artillery had been going on for a while now, showing no sign of stopping.

Clearly, the Legion's preparations were thorough—they seemed intent on leveling the entire mountain.

But that also meant their strategic objective had been achieved.

Even before the battle began, Rasi had issued orders to the front: all units should not be tied to fixed lines, but should use long-range fire and terrain to slow the enemy's advance as much as possible.

The Brahman brothers had proven that positional warfare couldn't stop the Legion's offensive.

They needed a more flexible line to replace the old rigid one, dispersing small units across a broader depth, waiting for the enemy's main force to penetrate deep, then striking hard and wearing down their strength through repeated skirmishes.

The artillery behind them still roared, but to their ears, it was already fading into the distance.

They would move to the next position and await the division's next order.

A boy soldier of about fourteen, clutching his rifle, muttered with his head down.

"How many Valiants actually landed this time?"

He was a new recruit from just a few months ago, a native of the three northern provinces.

When the little emperor came to build a summer palace, he'd been conscripted for labor.

Later, the Moon Tribe Resistance drove in, and the little emperor fled with his nobles, tail between legs, leaving the boy with nowhere to go.

Then a lad about his age found him, shoved an LD-47 into his hands, and told him if he had no home, he could join the Resistance—they'd feed him and give him land. So he joined.

The veteran sitting next to him was a bit older, but still only in his early twenties. He thought for a moment, then spoke.

"In our terms, about thirty divisions."

Thirty divisions...

Hearing that number, many on the truck involuntarily swallowed. Even some battle-hardened Resistance veterans couldn't help but wince.

They'd thought their own numbers were large, but the enemy's were just as big.

Currently, the Mammoth Kingdom had only ten divisions, with five deployed at the front and the other five still coming from the east.

Neighboring Brahman had over a hundred divisions, but most of them were just padding—a million troops couldn't even equip a hundred thousand.

On top of that, they faced a serious problem: re-equipping their forces.

Though both the Legion and the Alliance used 7mm rifles, the ammunition wasn't interchangeable.

Even the gray uniforms had only been issued to a third of the troops; the rest were little better than ragtag militia.

Even with the Alliance's help, this was still a battle of overwhelming odds.

A new recruit couldn't help but mutter.

"...Can we win?"

Warlike Wolf wanted to tell the truth—that it would be difficult. After all, even the Alliance had never directly fought a unified Legion; it was hard to say how much chance the fractured Brahman Province had.

This was purely rational analysis.

It cannot be that a single victory in the artillery duel would completely turn the tide of the entire war.

Barely a day into the fighting, the Southern Legion had already seized the entire northwestern coastline of Lion Province, pushing the front line to the vicinity of Sulak County.

If the Alliance were to fight this campaign, their advance speed would likely be no faster.

But before he could voice the concern in his heart, the battalion commander sitting beside him placed a hand on the new recruit’s shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze.

“We can do it!”

The voice was utterly resolute, just like his unwavering eyes.

His gaze seemed to pierce through the present, already envisioning a future full of light and promise.

He believed without a doubt.

The Battle-Hardened Wolf sitting nearby was slightly taken aback.

He didn’t know where this fellow’s confidence came from, but he unexpectedly discovered that this ragtag band of stragglers had somehow found faith.

These illiterate men, who understood no theories, had actually forged a belief!

It was utterly incredible…

Like many new players in the Alliance, he had once looked down on the Moon Tribe Resistance, thinking that these people, devoid of any guiding ideology or theoretical foundation, could at best become mountain bandits, and it would be lucky if they could hold off the Gray Wolf Army.

Yet now he realized that might have been his own arrogance and prejudice—like believing that “not absolutely ideological” meant “absolutely unideological.”

The Alliance, after all, was not built in a day.

Back when the Pioneer passed through Clear Spring City, they too had been as insignificant as ants by the roadside.

Seeing the furtive glances from all around, the Battle-Hardened Wolf was silent for a long moment, then a faint smile suddenly appeared on his face as he spoke the most fluent sentence he had uttered in some time.

“Don’t ask such pointless questions…”

“Those beasts are just a bit sharper in the tooth… If sharper teeth were enough to win, you and I would still be up in the trees right now.”

Hearing this amusing metaphor, a burst of cheerful laughter rang out in the jolting carriage.

Many Moon Tribe soldiers were tickled by the Alliance brother’s humor, their tense faces breaking into smiles.

The artillery battalion commander laughed the heartiest of all, the cigarette dangling from his lips falling off.

But the thirteen-year-old boy looked utterly bewildered, staring at the Alliance brother in confusion and asking,

“Why would we be up in the trees?”

In his understanding, the Alliance brothers were the most learned people; from platoon leaders to division commanders, everyone respected them and seriously considered their advice.

Looking at the child who should have been sitting in a classroom, the Battle-Hardened Wolf grinned, showing off the little knowledge he had.

“There are many theories about human origins. One says humans evolved from monkeys.”

The boy’s eyes widened.

“But I’m a Dog Tribe…”

“That has nothing to do with what you believe. It’s that… thing called science, right?” The battalion commander, having relit his cigarette, chimed in with a laugh.

He had a fellow townsman who had been to North Island in the Southern Sea, and the word “science” had come from that guy.

That stuff was a good thing; he heard the survivors in the Southern Sea relied on that so-called science to live more comfortably on a patch of land the size of a palm than they did on a vast plain, with a single piece of clothing worth more than their lives.

And that was after they went bankrupt.

Before bankruptcy, he heard the people there were several times richer than now.

Battle-Hardened Wolf: “…Strictly speaking, it should be considered a hypothesis, since no one has witnessed the past firsthand. I don’t understand it either. For the details, it’s better to ask your teacher when you go back to school someday.”

The boy nodded as if he understood, then asked curiously,

“Then… how did we come down from the trees? Wasn’t it good up there?”

Battle-Hardened Wolf laughed heartily.

“That’s a long story, starting from before the Age of Prosperity… even further back than the Classical Era…”

…

The sun sank into the sea, and the sky, heavy with clouds, finally unleashed a torrential downpour.

The pattering rain fell into the muddy trenches, where a shallow puddle cradled an arm that had fallen from someone unknown.

A Vlandian soldier, not paying attention, stumbled over the severed arm as he crossed the trench, nearly falling face-first into the mud, but was saved by a decurion who grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up.

“Watch your step. If that were a mine, you’d be dead, damn it.”

He had heard the Alliance had artillery-delivered mines, and deploying them wasn’t all that hard.

The soldier swallowed a mouthful of rain-mixed saliva and lowered his head in shame.

“Yes…”

Pete glanced at this green recruit, said nothing, and simply turned his gaze to the battlefield ahead, a scene of utter devastation.

This had been the Bharata Kingdom’s position; their troops had just withdrawn, and their allies, the 172nd Thousand-Man Cohort, had moved in right after.

But not long after that, shells came from the forested hills to the northeast—over twenty 155mm guns, firing a full twelve barrages.

According to allied intelligence, one of their hundred-man companies was right at the center of the barrage and had lost contact since the second salvo. They hoped the nearby 171st Thousand-Man Cohort would send a unit to check on their situation.

The 17th Ten-Thousand-Man Cohort had advanced too quickly, and with air raids in the rear, many supplies hadn’t caught up. They were forced to shift from offense to consolidating their current positions.

The brothers of the 172nd couldn’t easily leave their positions and could only rely on their fellow cohort in the same division.

That bombed hundred-man company was truly unlucky. Pete heard they had been sorting through junk captured from the Bharata army’s positions. They had just touched the scrap when they hit the jackpot—targeted by enemy artillery.

The fire was so swift and decisive that there must have been Moon Tribe resistance scouts nearby reporting information.

After detecting the enemy artillery and the radio signals directing the bombardment, the 17th Ten-Thousand-Man Cohort immediately deployed their own artillery. But before their counter-battery fire began, the enemy had already ceased fire, likely having moved on.

These bastards were as cunning as rats; he had to admit they had been a bit overconfident.

But it wasn’t too late to correct that.

After returning to his unit, Pete was immediately given a new task: head to the bombed allied position.

They needed to assess the situation of their allies while cooperating with the survivors to root out the enemy’s eyes.

“Damn it…”

Looking at the ravaged battlefield, Pete couldn’t help cursing under his breath, but he signaled to his teammates and pressed forward into the search, gritting his teeth.

The rain grew heavier, accompanied by a howling wind, making the search extremely difficult.

Especially since they had to stay alert—they might not be the only ones active nearby.

Mammoth Kingdom scouts could be lurking, and Bharata soldiers, coveting the equipment left on the positions, might circle back after hearing the shelling.

That was why the 172nd Thousand-Man Cohort dared not move recklessly; they had to be extremely cautious until the airships returned to the front.

As he approached a shell-proof bunker and prepared to peek inside, a rifle suddenly aimed at his head.

“Don’t move!”

In the darkness, he saw one fierce eye; the other was covered in blood.

Noticing the high-bridged nose, Pete released his grip on his rifle, signaling he meant no harm.

"One of our own."

Just before he spoke, the man standing in the shadows had evidently recognized his identity as well, lowering the gun barrel aimed at his forehead and spitting a mouthful of bloody saliva onto the ground.

"Damn... I just noticed, which unit are you from?"

"A century subordinate to the 171st Thousand-Man Cohort." It was only then that Pete noticed this agitated fellow was a centurion, a rank higher than his own.

"171?" The centurion paused, frowning as he muttered, "One of our own?"

Pete said succinctly.

"They can't spare the time for you right now, so they asked us to check on your situation... How many of you are left?"

The centurion twisted the corner of his mouth.

"Casualties aren't too heavy... nine dead, but quite a few wounded—maybe a dozen. The sanitary conditions here are terrible, and it's still raining. I'm worried they won't hold out much longer."

Really only nine dead?

Pete shot him a skeptical glance, suspecting he hadn't even confirmed it, but he didn't press further and instead said immediately.

"Then send them to the nearby farmstead. We've set up an operations base there with medical personnel. Once the supply convoy from the rear arrives, we can transport them back."

The centurion's eyes lit up at that, and he agreed at once.

"Fine! They're in your hands then!"

"And you?"

Seeing that the centurion seemed intent on not retreating from here, Pete asked instinctively.

A flicker of ruthlessness passed through the centurion's eyes as he ground out through clenched teeth.

"...Those bastards blew up my brothers. I can't just let it slide."

The casualties among his own men were only part of it; the other part was the sheer humiliation.

With that one barrage earlier, it was possible that his squad had accounted for the entire thousand-man cohort's casualties for the whole day.

If he didn't get even, he'd have no face left to be a centurion!

Pete wanted to advise him to calm down, but figured the man wouldn't listen to the opinion of a mere decanus.

"...You'd better be careful. I have a feeling the Alliance might already be here."

"Ha, just what I want!" The centurion curled his lip, reached out and patted his shoulder. "The wounded are in the bunker... they're your responsibility."

With that, he crawled out of the trench into the pouring rain and shouted toward the position.

"Anyone who can still move, get the hell up! Those sons of bitches have finally stopped farting—follow me and go fuck them up!"

"Ooh-rah!"

"Fight to the death!!"

The position erupted with roars of high morale. Soldiers in bulletproof armor and exoskeletons climbed out of the trenches one after another, gathering toward the north with murderous intent.

The spirited shouts pierced through the heavy curtain of rain, drifting toward the fields nearby.

Lying in the field, [Duct Dog] wore a look of regret as he recalled the small drone hovering in the sky and switched off the faintly glowing VM screen.

"Damn, what a waste..."

That artillery barrage just now had probably only killed twenty or thirty people—five shells per casualty was rather wasteful.

If only there were more artillery nearby.

Judging by the movement route of these big-noses, they seemed intent on continuing north. If another volley could be fired now, it might just wipe out this entire century.

But the artillery battalion ambushed in the mountains had already relocated. For now, there was nothing he could do but watch from the sidelines.

Climbing up from the field, Brother Dog carefully avoided the group of bloodthirsty Vlandian soldiers and crept toward the direction of Sulak County.

It seemed a thousand-man cohort had moved there earlier. He planned to scout it out before logging off, to see what the situation was...

...

While the Southern Legion's frontline troops were cursing under the bombardment, on the other side of the world, the official website of "Wasteland OL" was celebrating like a festival.

As it turned out, human joys and sorrows do not connect.

Unlike the Vlandians and Bhorans waiting in agony, for the players of "Wasteland OL," even before the fight started, they were already eager to jump in and "mediate."

Months ago, several big shots on the forum had been analyzing that an accidental clash was almost inevitable.

And now the restless Legion had indeed proven them right—the dog-like game designer's blade could no longer be restrained!

[Expansion Update: "Southern Barbarian Invasion"]

[Description: The Southern Legion has installed the false emperor Akbar Xilan to rebuild the Xilan Court, launching an armed invasion of the Bhoran Province survivor factions under the name of the false Xilan regime!

This is not only a provocation to the peace order of the wasteland, but also a betrayal of the ancient covenant! The survivors of the Alliance will not allow the Legion to expand east of the Great Desert in any form. If they enter the battlefield under the guise of mercenaries, then we will show them the power of volunteers!]

[How to Join: Register as a volunteer on the VM and head to the front line, which is considered participating in the expansion event. Expansion tasks will be received via the VM.]

[Event Rewards: In addition to the rewards from completing tasks themselves, accumulating points can be exchanged for more rewards after the expansion ends. Details to be announced.]

[Risk Warning: This event area has few save points and is extremely complex. Participating players are required to have a sequence level of LV10 or above and contribution points exceeding 3000.]

[Currently registered players: 27,155!]