Chapter 861: The Iron Cavalry of the Alliance!

Chapter 861: The Iron Cavalry of the Alliance!

"Wasteland OL" Official Website.

Mole on the Run from Canyon: "...Cough! Brothers, did the server just go down for maintenance?"

Quit Smoking: "???"

Tail: "0ω0?"

Edge Paddling: "What??"

Square Long: "Usually, we call this situation a resurrection cooldown."

Maca Bazi: "Hahaha! Dying of laughter!"

Spring Water Commander: "Bro, are you even capable? (ridiculous)"

I'm the Darkest: "If you really can't, let us take over. (grinning)"

Mole on the Run from Canyon: "Get lost, get lost! Even a master stumbles, a horse trips... MMP! What rotten luck!"

Square Long: "Indeed, everyone has bad luck sometimes. At least our brother Mole's teammates are still online, so it shouldn't be a big problem."

Night Ten: "Is it just me, or do I feel like a similar conversation has happened before? (ridiculous)"

Irena: "You should ask, when hasn't a similar conversation happened? (ridiculous)"

Elf King Wealth: "This game is way too realistic. (ridiculous)"

Mole on the Run from Canyon: "Whoa, you two came down too?!"

Irena: "Just here to mock you, going back soon. (ridiculous)"

Elf King Wealth: "Farewell, Commander! (ridiculous)"

Mole on the Run from Canyon: "@#&@!"

...

Facts prove that while showing off may not invite lightning strikes, underestimating the enemy definitely leads to trouble.

Although the Southern Legion's 34th Myriarchy was just a "mechanized infantry division" and had the bad luck of being caught off guard, it was not the pushover that Mole imagined.

In fact, compared to the Southern Legion's poorly trained armored units, the mechanized infantry coordinating with artillery was their true ace!

Being a reserve force strategically did not mean the entire unit was green.

Time goes back half an hour.

With the "Horn" deployed to the front lines, the 30th Myriarchy personally led by Myriarch Ryan was advancing unstoppably, leaving the 34th Myriarchy to rely on its own reconnaissance centuria and periodic patrols for scouting.

Indeed, at this stage of the war, capturing Lion City was a foregone conclusion. Almost no one in the Southern Legion doubted they would take all of Lion Province by month's end, force the Bhrata Kingdom to sign a truce, and then focus on the Mammoth Kingdom occupying the three northern provinces.

Under these circumstances, the 34th Myriarchy naturally had no fear of a Bhrata counterattack; their reconnaissance units were mainly tasked with searching for annoying tunnels and "rat holes."

But as luck would have it, while they were busy whacking moles, they ran headlong into the Skeleton Corps rushing to the south of Reedburgh County.

The two sides made contact on a gentle slope where forest met farmland.

The Southern Legion's 34th Myriarchy immediately paid for their complacency.

Those ten unlucky "Greyhound" scout cars had barely spotted the surging steel tide when 155mm high-explosive shells blasted through their armor.

The players chose high-explosive over armor-piercing mainly to avoid over-penetration.

Given the "Greyhound's" armor thickness, it was like paper before the Alliance's Mark III tanks—one shot would leave two holes, and the damage effect might not be as good as high-explosive.

Taking out ten enemy armored units on first contact boosted the Skeleton Corps players' morale!

Mole immediately ordered a continued advance, planning to devour the entire division with the help of their Goblin Corps air brothers.

However, the Velantians on the other side were no pushovers either.

Stunned by the initial blow, Myriarch Gibson of the 34th Myriarchy quickly recovered, calling for air support while issuing combat orders.

Not only that, but he pulled a slick move: he detached two mechanized infantry chiliarchies, unloaded the infantry and anti-tank equipment from the armored personnel carriers, and sent them into the foxholes and rat holes dug by Bhrata soldiers to ambush, then deployed self-propelled artillery and light armor behind these positions.

Admittedly, this tactic had some effect.

Though those "rat holes" were a bit narrow for Velantians, they could squeeze in.

High-explosive shells mainly damage upward in a fan shape, with limited effect on targets below ground level.

When the Skeleton Corps came into view of those skirmishers, the Velantian soldiers hidden in the rat holes immediately radioed their positions to the rear, calling for long-range fire.

Fifty-two "Fire Crossbow" self-propelled artillery pieces launched a volley, and a dense rain of shells descended on the Skeleton Corps' 1st Battalion.

In truth, given the Mark III's protection, as long as a shell didn't directly hit, it wasn't too afraid of long-range fire. At such a distance, indirect fire hitting a tank was like winning the lottery.

But as luck would have it, someone was that unlucky.

A 200mm capped armor-piercing high-explosive shell struck Brother Mole's vehicle dead-on, piercing through the weak top armor and blooming inside.

From penetration to explosion, the whole process took less than a second, so before Mole could even react, he was already back offline.

Meanwhile, an air squadron scrambled from West Sails Port arrived over the battlefield, swooping in with hundred-kilogram bombs.

Fortunately, the Goblin Corps taking off from Sky Capital Airport joined the fray just in time, preventing the Skeleton Corps from becoming meat on the chopping block.

Two hundred "Daggers" versus two hundred "Mosquitoes"—the two sides clashed in the sky, fighting fiercely above and below the clouds.

And as the battle raged, four "Thunder" fighters from Gold Harbor and six "Sabers" from Eternal Night Port joined the fray.

The former were the Alliance's next-generation fighters, using advanced but unstable plasma thrusters.

The latter were century-old relics from the Legion, using old jet engines, but their technology and craftsmanship were near the peak of "chemical power engines."

The use of jet engines wasn't due to "path dependency"

but because the only forces on the wasteland that could force the Legion to deploy supersonic aircraft were the Enterprise and the Alliance.

These things fired missiles far more expensive than propeller planes, and their cannons couldn't carry much ammo—neither the Legion's army nor its air force liked them, using them only in parades.

Back in the Fallen Cloud Province, Luoyu had once dueled one of these in his "Soaring Cloud" fighter, barely winning by merging with Xiaoyu.

But now, neither he nor Xiaoyu, nor the Alliance's aircraft, were at their old level.

Even if it were one against six instead of four against six, he was confident he could do it again in three days!

Gripping the control stick, Luoyu took a deep breath and sank his consciousness into the biological prosthesis.

Xiaoyu's fruiting bodies covered the entire cockpit.

Through these "biomass sensors," he could even feel the airflow over the canopy and the vibrations of the wingtips!

The whole plane seemed to merge with him!

His "vision" pierced the clouds, as if he could "see" the enemy pilot's heartbeat and breath, and at that moment, an air-to-air missile skimmed the cloud edge toward him.

Without a trace of fear, his chest burned with boiling battle lust.

When they fought the Torch Church before, the enemy's flying units couldn't even reach 200 yards.

Now, finally, a worthy opponent!

"Xiaoyu, get ready to go!"

As the missile radar activated, a light call came from the depths of his sea of consciousness.

"Eee-ah!"

Long, thick tracer rounds crisscrossed the sky, with an occasional air-to-air missile howling past. Every so often, a plane would burst into a fireball, tumbling down alongside parachutes.

Most of those parachutes belonged to the Valiants.

The pilots of the Goblin Corps had no need for such things; the Mosquitoes weren't even equipped with them for their own men.

The battle in the skies grew increasingly fierce, with no clear victor in sight for the moment.

At the same time, the ground battle raged on.

Though Mole had taken his leave right from the start, the command system of the Skeleton Corps didn't collapse. Instead, it drew laughter from the commanders of the vehicles behind.

"Damn, that fucking Mole's luck is way too good."

"How the hell did that even hit?! Is he cheating?!"

"The bastard game designer tweaked the difficulty."

"That's what happens when you don't stick to your job—karma strikes."

The comm channel was filled with a lively atmosphere; many took the chance to curse a few times while Mole was away.

But the fight continued, and no one wasted all their time on idle chatter. Soon, they refocused on the battlefield.

Even if only to avenge Brother Mole, they had to show some real skill!

Irena quickly took over command and shouted into the comm channel.

"...Air Defense Company, do you see anything in the near sky? Drones, perhaps?"

A reply came swiftly over the comm.

"Nothing! Not even a bird nearby, let alone drones."

The enemy air force was still locked in combat with the Goblin Corps brothers, too busy to bother with them for now.

Irena nodded.

"Good... It seems the enemy's 'eyes' and radios are hiding ahead of us."

This was a meeting engagement, with no time for extensive pre-deployment.

In such a short span, the 34th Myriarch was unlikely to have had time to deploy infantry on both flanks of their advance.

Especially since such a move risked exposing their own artillery to the enemy's armored forces.

Having guessed the enemy's deployment roughly, Irena made a quick judgment and issued a series of orders over the comm.

"Support Company, attention! Move to the marked position on the map and deploy independently, awaiting further instructions."

"First and Second Armored Battalions, flank left; Third Armored Battalion, flank right. Targets: enemy self-propelled artillery and light armored units. Watch for enemy anti-tank weapons. Fifth Mechanized Infantry Battalion, cover the Fourth Battalion as it continues advancing!"

All battalion commanders: "Roger!"

After a pause, Irena continued her orders.

"Also, Air Defense Company, level your anti-air guns! Push your Fucks forward. If you see anywhere that looks like it might hide someone, or a foxhole, sweep it with two bursts first!"

FK-1 "Defender" crew: "Roger!"

With each command issued, the Skeleton Corps immediately shifted its advancing formation.

The vanguard changed from Type-3 main battle tanks to "Chimera" armored vehicles, while the heavy armor spread to the flanks, charging straight like two giant axes toward the 34th Myriarch's artillery positions.

The Skeleton Corps' assault did not descend into chaos with the loss of its commander.

If anything, it was precisely because Mole had the confidence that "even without me, the Skeleton Corps can fight on" that he dared to charge to the front lines in his command vehicle.

Every main battle tank was equipped with an "offline operator," replacing the radio operator's role, responsible for transmitting offline deployments to the online network for strategic coordination. Meanwhile, online communications were handled by the tank commander, maintaining real-time contact with other crews.

This was a lesson they had learned during the Battle of Luoxia.

Even without a commander, or if the entire reinforced regiment were hit by a strategic-level EMP weapon, crews could still communicate relatively in real time.

Spotting the Alliance armored force's maneuver, the 34th Myriarch's commander, Gibson, found himself in a tight spot.

After taking artillery fire, they didn't rush headlong toward the infantry positions but chose to bypass the frontal positions from both flanks.

Seeing that the air force was proving useless and the enemy armored units were closing in fast, Gibson had no choice but to grit his teeth and order the deployed self-propelled artillery to withdraw, along with the armored personnel carriers stationed nearby.

As for the three thousand-plus soldiers left behind, they could only be told to take cover on the spot.

After all, in such a vast area, it would be quite difficult for the Alliance to find them all, and they were unlikely to waste that much time searching.

Though Gibson made the correct decision from a commander's standpoint, it turned those infantrymen left behind to ambush the tanks into sacrificial pawns.

Deprived of supporting fire and light armor cover, the three thousand-plus scattered troops instantly became orphans.

Sensing the enemy's ceasefire, Irena immediately ordered her already-deployed Support Company to release drones for artillery guidance, pounding three rounds of incendiary shells at suspected enemy positions.

Blazing fires spread across the open field. Though the flames weren't intense, they proved devastating for the Valiant soldiers hiding in their foxholes.

Their burly frames were already cramped in the narrow pits, and the fire consumed the oxygen near the ground. Some couldn't bear it and crawled out; others suffocated to death in their holes.

When the burning was about done, Irena shouted, "Dismount!" and led over three hundred brothers from the Fourth Battalion off the vehicles. Supported by Chimera armored cars, they advanced in three-man teams, sweeping forward.

Since the "Fire Extinguishing Battle," all mechanized infantry in the Skeleton Corps had been re-equipped with the "Type-5" light exoskeleton, balancing mobility and defense.

With the helmet's battlefield guidance system, they only needed to "look" at a suspicious spot, and the iris-recognition sensor would instantly sync their line of sight to the gunner in the armored vehicle behind them, who would decide whether to fire a burst.

No sooner had they dismounted than they came under fire from Valiant stragglers.

Bullets zipped like horizontal rain, whistling through the air.

Ducking to avoid a burst, Irena immediately raised her LD-47 assault rifle and fired back.

A 7mm full-power round punched straight through a helmet. The Valiant soldier in the foxhole didn't even have time to grunt; his head burst like a smashed watermelon, scattering red and white.

He was stuck in the foxhole entrance like a potato planted in the ground, his upper body slumped forward, half his corpse sprawled on the earth.

The death of their comrade didn't frighten the remaining Valiants; instead, it stirred their bloodlust.

Gunfire crackled across the field, fierce volleys pinning Irena's squad behind an armored vehicle.

But no matter how fierce, that fire came from small-bore weapons—nothing compared to the Chimera's 37mm cannon.

"Three o'clock! Hit them hard with high-explosive! We'll watch for the rocket launchers!"

Irena pounded the vehicle door with her fist, then braced her rifle against the side of the front armor, aiming at a Valiant crawling out of a foxhole with an anti-tank rocket launcher. She pulled the trigger.

With a few short bursts, the man crumpled to the ground before he could load his weapon.

The enemy commander had clearly underestimated the size of these foxholes, as well as the bulk of his own soldiers and equipment.

A Brahmin could stand in those foxholes and fire an RPG, but a Valiant could barely squeeze in, let alone reload an anti-tank rocket launcher—they had to climb out to operate it.

Perhaps cheaper, disposable "Panzerfaust" rocket launchers would have been better.

Against light armor, any shaped charge with sufficient penetration did the same job.

Irena easily dealt with the anti-tank infantry, and the Chimera armored car serving as cover for her squad focused on the soft targets firing rifles.

The 37mm cannon boomed, shell casings clattering against the turret and hull. In just a few breaths, most of the Valiant infantry blocking their path were dead or wounded.

And while the Chimera kept up its sustained fire, the FK-1 "Defender" following not far behind pressed forward.

Based on a destroyer's CIWS design, the 20mm "Red Dot" rapid-fire cannon aimed at the muddy black earth ahead, then suddenly roared like a tearing sheet of cloth.

The dense rain of shells fell upon the rows of foxholes ahead like a raging storm, sweeping across the battlefield with absolute devastation as if eager to overturn the very earth, shaving off six percent of the armored vehicle's total mass in just a few short minutes.

Although these electromagnetically accelerated light mass rounds possessed low armor-piercing capabilities, they proved unexpectedly effective against loose soil.

Where high-explosive shrapnel failed to penetrate, these directionally fired metal spheres pierced through with ease, even riddling the foxholes completely.

The enemy breakout fell silent instantly, and Elena fired a few tentative shots; receiving no response, he moved forward to investigate, bringing along Old Wang and another brother.

As he walked up to the nearest foxhole, he found the entire pit completely buried by collapsed earth, the mound covering it dotted with clusters of tiny holes resembling a honeycomb.

"My god... this is a total nightmare."

Clicking his tongue, Elena overcame the discomfort in his heart, detached the entrenching shovel hanging from his exoskeleton, dug open the buried foxhole, and snapped a photo of the interior.

It was not out of some twisted pleasure.

Confirming weapon damage effects was a standard part of the combat mission, especially since this marked the first deployment of the FK-1 "Defender" on the battlefield.

Staring at that patch of mangled flesh and mud, even Old Wang, who had seen plenty of hellish sights, felt his stomach churn and could not help but complain.

"Damn... we can't even scavenge their gear now."

"What version are we even on anymore? We wouldn't need it anyway."

Ever since the Alliance's industry developed, they rarely used captured equipment.

Those items were usually passed down to newcomers as transitional gear, sold to interested wastelanders, or handed over to Boulder Military Industry for research.

Elena silently muttered a prayer and buried the bloody pit back up.

Tragic.

This game was always redundantly realistic in the strangest places; no wonder Ah Guang did not let children in.

If the arrogant young masters saw this, wouldn't they wet themselves on the spot?

On the other side, the battle in the sky seemed to be drawing to a close.

The Third Air Fleet of the Southern Legion was gradually showing signs of weakness; even the ace pilot, who supposedly shot down ten Alliance aircraft during the "Port Defense Battle," suffered defeat, becoming a single horizontal stroke of the tally mark painted inside Feng Qing's cockpit.

Luo Yu achieved equally brilliant results over there, shooting down two of the six "Sabre" fighters.

The other two kills were claimed by his teammates.

Though the cost was a one-for-one trade, it was no big deal!

The original advantage shifted into a stalemate, and the remaining two "Sabre" fighters chose to retreat.

Luo Yu, low on ammunition, decided against giving chase, instead escorting another damaged friendly aircraft as they flew back toward Port King Gallon.

In terms of acceleration, the plasma engine—still in its infancy—was indeed no match for the mature chemical engine, its advantages lying primarily in cruising range and stability.

Once the aerial battle concluded, Mosquito likewise did not pursue the retreating Third Air Fleet of the Southern Legion, instead leading the remaining thirty-nine aircraft to pounce upon the 34th Legionary Corps retreating toward the northern railway.

The ammunition on his plane had not been emptied yet, so it would be a shame to return home just like this.

Although he carried no aerial bombs for this sortie, nothing stopped him from using his 20mm autocannons to stir up a little trouble for those Wilantes fleeing with their tails between their legs.

"Brothers! Ignore the armored cars, aim for those transport trucks!"

Shouting into the communication channel, Mosquito pulled down the goggles on his head, gave a wild cry, and led the dive.

As he pressed the firing trigger, the two 20mm autocannons spat twin tongues of fire, tearing the front cabin of an armored transport truck to shreds.

The Wilante soldiers hiding in the rear compartment scrambled out of the vehicle in a panic, scattering into the nearby woods under their officer's urgent commands.

The originally orderly convoy instantly fell into chaos, and several infuriated Wilantes grabbed their assault rifles and submachine guns to fire skyward, though they failed to scratch even the shadow of the aircraft.

"Shooting at me with a submachine gun? Are you insane, hahaha—holy crap!?"

With a sharp crack, a bullet hole suddenly appeared on the cockpit glass.

Mosquito, who had just been showing off, startled and hastily pulled the control stick to raise the nose of the plane.

Thirty-nine propeller planes took turns diving toward the ground, disabling nearly every transport truck still capable of moving and blowing the tires off the rest, leaving only a few intractable armored cars and light tanks on the ground.

The brothers of the Skeleton Corps would clean up those pieces.

Having fired their last rounds of ammunition, their mission was complete.

Just as Brother Mosquito led his men back toward Tiandu, the three armored battalions of the Skeleton Corps caught up with the routed troops of the 34th Legionary Corps.

The entire legionary corps had nearly crumbled.

Aside from the fifty-two "Fire Crossbow" self-propelled howitzers that escaped due to their heavy armor, almost all the remaining soldiers were forced to scatter into the mountains and forests after losing their transport.

It was a pity Old Na's own two mechanized infantry battalions failed to keep up; otherwise, they might truly have wiped out the enemy's entire divisional combat unit.

However, this blame could not be laid entirely on Old Na's shoulders.

After all, he never expected those Wilantes to be so stubborn, refusing to surrender even after being completely cut off.

Over three thousand big-noses, carrying nearly half a division's worth of anti-tank equipment, hid across a battlefield spanning over a dozen kilometers.

Even if he expended the entire regiment's ammunition, he might not thoroughly clear out these three thousand scattered troops.

The shortage of manpower was a fatal flaw.

The two battalions combined amounted to only 600 men; attempting to search a front over a dozen kilometers wide was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

Most critically, their current position placed them deep behind enemy lines; the moment they stopped, they faced the risk of encirclement.

The enemy clearly understood this, refusing to surrender no matter how many announcements were made unless a gun was pressed to their heads or they were dragged out of their holes by the collar.

Elena could not help but complain inwardly: who exactly is the gopher here?

Ignoring these people was out of the question, as this force would definitely bite them when they tried to retreat.

Just as Old Na found himself caught in a dilemma, a few horses suddenly approached from afar.

Hearing the sound of hooves, he instinctively aimed his rifle, only to see the other party raise their hands.

"Alliance brothers, don't shoot! Friendly forces!"

With that, the man pulled the reins and dismounted with a swift flip.

Elena stared at the man dressed in civilian clothes and lowered his rifle barrel.

"Who are you?"

The man's face glowed with excitement, his expression filled with respect as he stood straight and delivered a military salute.

"Commander of the 11th Legionary Corps of the Kingdom of Baro! Jokale!"

Impressive.

For a legion commander to be this far on the front lines, you can respawn in three days too, huh?

Elena cast a surprised glance at him, then looked at the few soldiers who dismounted behind him.

"Where is your unit? Just these few?"

Jokale spoke at a rapid pace.

"Our unit is nearby. Commander Yudono assigned me the task of conducting guerrilla warfare in this area! Hearing the gunfire just now, I rode ahead on horseback. My subordinates are still running behind me and should arrive in about ten minutes."

The Baro Army lacked vehicles, and most soldiers relied on their two legs for mobility.

When facing the motorized units of the Legion, their reinforcement speed fell far short of the enemy's driving speed; often, by the time they arrived, the bodies of their allies were already cold.

It was precisely for this reason that the Southern Legion held the two hundred thousand strong army in utter contempt.

Troops that could not reach the battlefield in time were useless no matter how numerous.

Presumably, it was out of such helplessness that the frontline commander of the Bolo Kingdom had simply ordered this force to wage guerrilla warfare.

Though Irene felt that, given their communication level—a single radio for a hundred men—it wouldn't be long before the decurions lost track of their centurions, they had no better option for now.

But just then, a thought struck him, and he looked at the officer before him and asked.

"How many men do you have?"

Yokale declared in a booming voice.

"Besides us, there are about ten thousand more! We can accept your command!"

"Excellent!"

Irene clapped him on the shoulder with great delight, then glanced back at the "potato field" behind him and continued.

"These big-noses are hiding in rat holes and won't come out; we can't persuade them. Take your men and go find them. They have radios, though on the same frequency as the Southern Legion, but you can manage with a code word."

Not just radios, but also exoskeletons and rocket launchers and such.

Though he looked down on those things, the Bolo Kingdom's army wouldn't be picky.

Sure enough, upon hearing his words, Yokale's face lit up with surprise, and he eagerly accepted the order.

"Leave it to us! I promise we'll drag them all out without missing a single one!"

"Good, it's in your hands!" Irene smiled and patted his shoulder, adding a reminder, "Be quick about it—who knows when their reinforcements might arrive. Once you've got the gear, head south; it's too late to reach Lion City anyway."

Leaving Yokale with endless thanks, Irene waited for the Bolo Kingdom's army to arrive, then handed over the "potato field" to them.

If they wouldn't surrender, so be it; he was glad to avoid the trouble of guarding prisoners.

Silently offering a prayer for those stubborn young Valiant men, Old Na then led his brothers back to the vehicles, escorting the hooded captives.

The logistics company would collect these prisoners and send them to the rear POW camps.

"Fourth Battalion, Fifth Battalion, Support Company, and Anti-Air Company, attention! Target the railway to the north! Advance!"

The rumbling of wheels continued forward, cutting toward the rear of the Southern Legion's eastern forces.

Yet regrettably, local victories could not reverse the overall situation of the battle.

Just as the Skeleton Corps was locked in fierce combat with the 35th Myriarch along the railway line, the 30th Myriarch under Myriarch Ryan had broken through the defenses northeast of Riedelburg and kicked open the gates of Lion City.

Facing the combined assault of three Southern Legion myriarchs and a steel airship, the six Bolo Kingdom myriarchs stationed outside the city were thrown into disarray and forced to retreat into the city for street fighting.

Yudono had already evacuated some civilians, and others had fled on their own when they sensed trouble.

But Lion City, a sprawling settlement of a million people, was not so easy to empty.

Besides, who but Abusek still harbored illusions about the Valiants?

Even after witnessing the massacre at Westport Harbor, some Bolo still believed those dead Bolo had it coming, that the Southern Legion's "ruthlessness" was justified.

Hearing that the 34th Myriarch had been routed, Ryan was surprisingly calm—he didn't even vent his anger at Myriarch Gibson, who reported the news, but merely issued orders with composure.

At this stage of the war, even the most naive Valiant would no longer think their enemy was those filthy Bolo.

Their adversary was the Alliance.

Fighting an ancient foe, a temporary setback was no disgrace; besides, losing two battles didn't change the fact that they were still advancing triumphantly.

However, since the local survivors chose to side with the remnants of the Construction Committee and oppose the Valiants, they couldn't blame him for showing no mercy...

On the command vehicle.

Staring at the holographic screen showing the settlement shrouded in black smoke, Myriarch Ryan ordered the airship "Horn" with an expressionless face.

"Move your airship over the southern district of Lion City."

The captain of the Horn knew what he intended and didn't think it was wrong, yet couldn't help feeling it might be too extreme.

What they needed wasn't a ruin.

Such things were everywhere in the Great Wasteland, unwanted even for free.

"What's the point? Only broken troops remain. If you're worried about casualties, we can release some dogs first—those are cheaper than shells."

By "dogs," he meant the unnumbered Glorious Army.

But Ryan didn't explain, only said coldly,

"Do as I say."

He needed to crush the locals' will to resist, to make them know the price of opposing the Southern Legion.

The captain of the Horn sighed and stopped dissuading him.

"Very well... ahem, I mean, as you command."