Chapter 869: The Great Victory in Akale County!

Chapter 869: Great Victory in Akale County!

In the southern part of Akale County, a massive encounter erupted across the open wilderness.

On one side stood the 37th Myriarch of the Southern Legion, led by Baldwin; on the other, the 1st Mechanized Infantry Division of Golden Port, accompanied by two armored regiments from the Tiger Army and the Panther Army respectively.

The latter’s objective was to advance to the bend of the Eternal Flow River, cutting off the retreat of the 36th Myriarch of the Southern Legion, while the former’s goal was naturally to prevent the latter from striking at their allies’ rear.

No sooner had the two sides made contact than fierce fighting broke out.

Two “Chimera” armored vehicles launched “Dove” missiles first, blowing up a “Conqueror” V light tank and a “Beast” wheeled infantry fighting vehicle in succession.

The 37th Myriarch of the Southern Legion did not yield either; two light armored teams swiftly moved forward, destroying three “Chimera” armored vehicles from the Golden Port Mechanized Infantry Division in a row.

Just as the armored teams of the 37th Myriarch were about to devour the vanguard of the Golden Port 1st Mechanized Infantry Division, a steel torrent of over a hundred “Conqueror X” tanks suddenly burst into the Southern Legion’s positions!

Before the two light armored teams could react, the roaring tank shells pierced their side armor, turning them into blazing scrap metal in the mud.

“Advance!!!” the commander of the Tiger Army’s armored regiment roared over the comm channel, leading his men to breach the flank positions of the 37th Myriarch.

As their own tanks bore down on them, the Valiants of the 37th Myriarch stared in disbelief.

The Conqueror was supposed to be their tank.

It was one thing for the Alliance to get hold of one or two, but how had they managed to assemble two thousand-man tank regiments?!

Faced with the Southern Legion’s limited anti-tank firepower, the Conqueror X tanks rampaged unopposed, chasing the enemy’s infantry fighting vehicles and reconnaissance cars as they fled across the hills and fields!

Watching the casualty reports from frontline officers, Baldwin, commanding from his position, felt his heart bleed.

The two light armored teams he had sent up were his own elite troops!

Expecting the enemy to be mere natives from the Bolo Province, he had thought to let his men earn a few medals—never imagining the sudden appearance of two armored thousand-man regiments!

In just a few minutes, he had lost twenty “Beast” wheeled infantry fighting vehicles, five “Greyhound” armored cars, and two armored personnel carriers.

Seeing his light armored teams on the verge of collapse, he grabbed the communicator without hesitation and bellowed in a near-roar.

“Light armored teams, fall back! First Thousand-Man Regiment, move up! Break their tracks!”

“Support teams, prepare to fire! Use HEAT shells! Aim for the tanks with broken tracks!”

At his command, the two light armored teams of the 37th Myriarch quickly withdrew, replaced by ranks of Valiant soldiers carrying anti-tank weapons charging forward.

The entire open field offered only the undulating ridges of the farmland as limited cover.

They moved along the edges of the ridges, firing back with anti-tank rocket launchers to cover the retreat of their own light armored units.

Meanwhile, a thousand Glory Corps soldiers accompanying them, clutching crude anti-tank weapons, launched a suicidal assault on the Tiger Army’s armored regiment.

The hills and fields echoed with battle cries, but their chaotic charge met a hail of 37mm fragmentation shells.

Explosions of fire bloomed across the farmland, along with flying flesh and debris.

Clone soldiers fell like mown wheat in an instant, yet driven by their decurions, they had to press forward with wide eyes.

A brutal slaughter began.

With friendly support, the Golden Port 1st Mechanized Infantry Division halted its retreat.

The twenty “Chimera” armored vehicles at the vanguard quickly turned around, matching the pace of the Tiger Army’s armored advance, using their 37mm cannons to eliminate approaching infantry while launching “Dove” missiles to hunt down fleeing “Conqueror” V light tanks.

On the other side, the 37th Myriarch of the Southern Legion found itself locked in a bitter struggle.

Whether it was the recoilless guns of the anti-tank teams or the Glory Corps clone soldiers charging with anti-tank grenades and “Iron Fist” rocket launchers, none could do anything against the Conqueror X heavy tanks.

The spaced armor was nearly impervious to HEAT rounds, while the small-caliber guns of the Conqueror V light tanks couldn’t even scratch the Conqueror X’s hide—at most, they could break its tracks.

Long ago, the Alliance had conducted an experiment, pitting two Conqueror X tanks against each other; they expended all their ammunition without either side gaining an advantage.

In terms of weapon design philosophy, the Legion and the South Sea Alliance seemed to be polar opposites.

The latter’s approach was mutual deterrence, while the former never seemed to consider fighting among themselves.

From that perspective alone, the Valiants were indeed united.

Yet when betrayal struck, this unity ironically became a burden.

These Conqueror X tanks had been sold by the Eastern Legion through arms dealers on the Death Coast to the warlords of Tiger and Panther Prefectures!

The Golden Port 1st Mechanized Infantry Division soon gained the upper hand, but their opponents were no pushovers either.

After advancing for a while, the Tiger Army’s armored regiment’s momentum stalled.

Over a dozen tanks got stuck in the mud due to their weight, and nearly five tanks had their tracks broken.

The Akale County area was a floodplain with soft, sandy soil, and the recent rainy season had brought days of rain, making the ground even muddier.

Seeing the tanks bogged down in the open, Myriarch Baldwin immediately ordered the self-propelled artillery to open fire.

One after another, 200mm HEAT shells, guided by infantry spot reports, rained down on the field crowded with tanks.

One Conqueror X was unlucky.

A HEAT shell struck the center of its turret, the top-down attack penetrating straight into the compartment.

A plume of smoke rose into the sky, along with the ammunition detonated by the exploding shell rack.

The crew inside died instantly, not a single intact body left.

Witnessing their comrades’ fate, the crews of the stuck tanks had no choice but to abandon their vehicles and flee.

“Blast them to pieces! Hit them hard!” Baldwin’s eyes were bloodshot as he watched the fleeing Bolo people, a grim smile on his face.

Fools!

Artillery is the Southern Legion’s ace!

The Conqueror X’s invincibility is not absolute, but relative.

They were not entirely helpless against the Conqueror X!

The roar of gunfire continued, and soon another Conqueror X’s turret flew into the sky.

But Baldwin’s triumph did not last long. Amid the distant thunder of artillery, a few deafening explosions suddenly mixed in.

That was not the sound of self-propelled guns firing, but the sound of shells exploding!

Baldwin’s grin slowly froze on his face, especially when he saw a wisp of smoke rising from the artillery position—his heart sank.

“Damn it!”

Cursing under his breath, he grabbed the communicator and switched to the support team.

“What was that explosion?! What’s happening over there?!”

His words had barely left his mouth when a series of even denser explosions came from the direction of the artillery position, and this time the smoke was not just a wisp but an entire patch!

Even the slowest mind would realize that the earlier explosion was ranging fire.

And this next salvo was the real deal!

Amid the crackling static and booming gunfire from the comm channel, the support team’s chiliarch shouted frantically.

“We’re under bombardment! It’s from the 36th Myriarch’s artillery position! Damn it, tell them to cease fire!”

“The 36th Myriarch?!”

Baldwin was stunned, his mind blank. Countless possibilities flashed through his thoughts, leaving only one final conclusion.

The friendly artillery position was taken out!

The fifty-two "Fire Crossbow" self-propelled guns that should have been aimed at their enemies were now aimed at them!

Cold sweat slid down Baldwin's forehead. It took him only three seconds to make the final decision, and he shouted into the communicator.

"Glorious Army, continue to block the enemy! Hold them at all costs!!"

"All other units retreat westward! We will regroup in southern Redburgh County!"

With the retreat order given, the Valiant troops engaged with the First Mechanized Infantry Division of Golden Harbor began to withdraw from the battlefield.

Even though many of the thousand-man teams still held a clear advantage, they nevertheless withdrew without hesitation, replaced by the clones charging forward.

The latter were quickly annihilated, but the Valiants used the time bought by them to swiftly board armored personnel carriers.

In the haste of retreat, they didn't even have time to collect the bodies of their fallen comrades, leaving them and dropped equipment scattered on the battlefield.

One after another, armored personnel carriers rapidly left the battlefield, and the entire front line, over ten kilometers wide, was thus abandoned...

Though somewhat shameful, it had to be admitted that Baldwin had made a clever decision.

For not long after they began their retreat, the burning white phosphorus fell upon their positions, drenching them from north to south.

After capturing the self-propelled guns, Yokal's subordinates showed no mercy, using the harshest of measures.

If they had left one minute later, those Valiant soldiers lying behind the ridges would have been writhing in flames and mud, unable to live or die...

Watching the boiling sea of fire and the charred corpses, the Golden Harbor soldiers lying behind the ridges had surprise in their eyes.

"The Valiants... are retreating."

Several Golden Harbor soldiers exchanged glances, all seeing disbelief on each other's faces.

"Holy shit..."

A young lad swallowed his saliva and murmured softly.

"...We actually won."

No one could believe it was true.

Whether frontline soldiers or rear-command officers, their faces were all filled with astonishment.

Before stepping onto the battlefield, they never imagined they could defeat the Legion in a head-on fight, yet unexpectedly they had truly won.

After the flames died down, an old soldier tentatively stood up and groped forward, finding that the Valiants were indeed gone, leaving only some discarded equipment and unburned corpses.

Unable to contain his excitement, he raised his rifle and shouted at the top of his lungs.

"Victory!!!"

That joyful cry soon swelled into shouts that covered the mountains and fields.

"We won!!!"

"Ooh!!!"

At the same time, the Valiant soldiers who had boarded the armored personnel carriers had faces full of humiliation.

They had actually lost to a bunch of natives!

"Damn it..."

A Valiant soldier angrily punched his knee pad, producing a dull thud.

The soldiers sitting beside him were also silent, their heavy faces expressionless.

It was the same for Baldwin inside the command vehicle, but the reason for his grim expression was not the temporary defeat, but that he found he couldn't contact the neighboring friendly forces.

From the moment the shelling began, he had been trying to get in touch with Wulf the Ten-Thousand Commander, but he couldn't reach him no matter what.

"Damn it!"

He slammed the communicator onto the table, his gloomy face even darker.

Sitting beside him, the adjutant said in a heavy tone.

"The 36th Ten-Thousand-Man Unit is probably in dire straits... In the worst case, the headquarters might have been taken out by now."

"What is that fool doing!"

Baldwin cursed, then looked at the faint figure floating in the sky in the distance.

To suffer defeat right under the nose of the steel airship! What a disgrace to the Legion!

Might as well shoot himself!

...

As Baldwin had anticipated, the situation of the 36th Ten-Thousand-Man Unit was indeed not optimistic.

First, on the support side, the fifty-two self-propelled guns had just adjusted their firing data, ready to support their battle, when they were disarmed by the Burning Corps that had crept close.

That was the most humiliating battle—the Alliance soldiers in power armor directly charged into the face of Thousand Commander Toran!

Facing a row of dark muzzles, Toran, though stunned, did not hesitate and decisively raised his hands in surrender.

They were surrounded not only by the Burning Corps but also by the 11th Ten-Thousand-Man Unit of the Brahman Kingdom, wearing standard Legion exoskeletons.

Relying solely on the combat power of a single support unit, there was no hope of breaking out.

Even putting up a stubborn resistance would be useless, only adding meaningless casualties.

"...Give it up, Phil. This battle is theirs." Glancing at his adjutant who still wanted to draw his gun to resist, Toran said in a calm tone.

"But..."

"Even if you don't think for yourself, think of your men. They have families too."

Hearing his commander say this, the adjutant named Phil finally handed over his sidearm with a look of humiliation.

Taking the pistol, Old Bai raised an eyebrow at the thousand commander named Toran.

"I like people who know when to yield. It saves us a lot of time."

Seeing the handcuffs offered by the soldier beside him, Toran obediently extended his hands.

But just before he was led away, he suddenly spoke as if something occurred to him.

"Are you the commander of the Burning Corps?"

Seeing the NPC looking at him, Old Bai nodded and said succinctly.

"Yes."

Toran pondered for a moment.

"May I ask a presumptuous question?"

Old Bai: "Go ahead."

Glancing at the Brahman soldiers in Legion gear not far away, Toran said in a slow, deliberate voice.

"I don't understand... What benefits did they give you? Why are you helping them?"

Old Bai replied bluntly.

"Because if we don't, the wasteland will never end."

Hearing this unexpected reply, Toran was visibly taken aback.

“…So the wasteland will never end?”

“That’s right,” Old Bai nodded, then glanced at the self-propelled artillery not far off and tilted his chin. “Can that thing end the wasteland?”

“If there were enough of them, it could indeed be done,” the officer named Phil retorted defiantly, staring hard at Old Bai. “At the very least, they could clean out you meddlesome moles.”

Old Bai didn’t seem angered; he just chuckled in reply.

“Is that so? Then your wasteland should have ended long ago. Why come here seeking land under the sun? I’d wager the survivors of the wasteland would all be scrambling to get to your place, not fleeing from you like cockroaches.”

Toran suddenly burst into laughter.

“If there really were such a fellow, I’d bet he’s gone mad.”

Phil stared at his commander in astonishment, as if unable to believe those words had come from his mouth.

Hearing this unexpected reply, Old Bai took a longer look at the chiliarch named Toran and raised an eyebrow slightly.

It seemed not all Vlandians were madmen—there were still some sane ones…

Fifty-two self-propelled artillery pieces were all captured. Yokal, the myriarch, ordered his men to train their guns on the Vlandian gunners, forcing them to set new firing data based on the coordinates provided by the First Mechanized Infantry Division of Golden Port. Then they unleashed a barrage on the artillery positions of the 37th Myriarchy.

What happened next was exactly what Baldwin the myriarch had witnessed.

Facing tanks charging at their front and artillery fire from the rear, the 37th Myriarchy could only scatter and flee.

Compared to a complete rout, “scatter and flee” was a slightly euphemistic term.

Lucky for them, they ran fast.

If they had been any slower, they might never have had the chance to run.

The rout of the 37th Myriarchy and the fall of the 36th Myriarchy’s support detachment were only the beginning.

Facing the combined assault of the Death Corps and the 3rd Myriarchy of the Brahman Kingdom, the eight thousand-strong units that had crossed the river also suffered heavy casualties.

Caught in the Death Corps’ flanking and encirclement, nearly ten thousand soldiers deep in the forest were brutally split in two from the middle!

One part of the force, having advanced recklessly, was surrounded on a hill less than five kilometers from the riverbank, while the other part, reinforcements that had just crossed, was trapped on the river’s edge, unable to advance or retreat.

The latter suffered the most tragic fate.

As the pontoon bridges were blown up one after another, the Vlandians stationed on the riverbank lost all retreat, forced to face the hail of bullets pouring from the forest, enduring ever-mounting casualties.

Some, unable to bear the terror and finding no cover, turned and jumped into the Eternal Flow River, trying to swim back to the west bank.

Blood stained the riverbank red; corpses lay everywhere on the east bank of the Eternal Flow!

Among them were clones and Vlandians—some killed by machine-gun fire, others unluckily struck by mortar shrapnel, or with their organs shattered by the blasts.

Explosions rang out in succession. The airships above finally dropped their anchor chains and bombarded the ground with cannons, attempting to use close-range fire to halt the Death Corps’ encirclement of the 36th Myriarchy.

But soon, thick smoke capable of blocking signals rose from the forest.

The aerial artillery, having lost both ground guidance and a direct line of sight, could only stare helplessly at the dense fog spreading through the trees.

The same went for the Southern Legion’s aviation squadron that had taken off from West Sail Port. Twenty “Dagger” fighters swooped over the battlefield, but without ground guidance, they were unable to strike.

Including the “Sabers” that had flown in from Eternal Night Port.

The latter were especially frustrated; lacking ground-attack capabilities, they could only fire two bursts of cannon rounds before withdrawing in chagrin.

In the end, the most useful were the cannons of the Hornet, firing shell after shell at the edge of the smoke. In the chaos, they did manage to kill quite a few League soldiers.

But those fellows seemed endless, charging straight into the faces of their ground troops despite the roaring shells, willing to trade one life for another.

Facing that indomitable momentum, the 36th Myriarchy was utterly stunned.

Many young lads from the colonies were experiencing such a brutal battlefield for the first time.

The arrogance they’d worn when first stepping onto the field was gone from their faces, replaced only by panic and terror.

There were no medals here for them to crave.

Only death, everywhere!

It wasn’t just the young soldiers fighting on the front lines; the officers commanding from the rear were the same.

In truth, by this point in the war, there was no distinction between front and rear. The entire forest was filled with whizzing bullets and gunfire.

But not everyone was as “cowardly” as Chiliarch Toran. Take Taut, who had been the first to cross the river—he stubbornly declared he would rather die than surrender.

Seeing his men nearly wiped out, his eyes bloodshot, he felt not a shred of retreat in his heart but instead led his own guard unit into the fray.

“No retreat! Everyone, hold the line! Our reinforcements are on the way!”

“Damn it! Pull yourselves together!”

Though the 36th Myriarchy had suffered a heavy blow, he believed the League and the Brahman Kingdom on the other side had also endured massive casualties.

The corpses scattered through the forest weren’t all Vlandians; a fair number were League or Brahman soldiers.

If he retreated now, the fallen brothers would have died for nothing.

Even for the sake of Vlandian honor, he could not allow himself to withdraw at this moment.

But just then, a sudden burst of gunfire swept in from his front-left flank.

Two guards were killed instantly; two others were hit in the chest and thigh respectively, collapsing to the ground, bleeding profusely.

Taut drew his pistol, but before he could release the safety, he was kicked to the ground.

He reached for the fallen pistol, but a military boot stomped on his wrist.

“Ahhh!!!”

A cry of agony escaped Taut’s lips. Edge Skimmer, holding an LD-47 rifle with a bayonet attached in a reverse grip, thrust it heavily into the ground beside his ear.

“It’s over. Tell your men to surrender.”

“Surrender… heh…”

Taut’s mouth twisted into a pained smile, his contorted face smeared with mud, like a demon crawling from a swamp.

“…Dream on!”

Anticipating this reply, Edge Skimmer clicked his tongue and said nothing more.

Whether this man surrendered or not, it wouldn’t change the outcome of this battle.

Just as he had said.

It was over.

The roar of fighter planes passed overhead. Two “Thunder” warplanes traced two eerie blue arcs through the sky, diving toward the “Daggers” circling above.

Those propeller-driven aircraft all clustered toward the steel airship for shelter, while the latter hastily raised its cannons and air-to-air missiles, wary of the two eerie blue lights.

The pilot of the Thunder warplane, Falling Feather, did not approach the airship’s firing arc. Instead, he curved along its edge and, together with his wingman, launched thirty-two unguided rockets.

Those rockets did not fly toward the airship but accelerated straight for the anchor chains beneath it.

The deflector shield based on graviton technology enveloped the entire airship, but it clearly did not extend to the anchor chains below.

John, standing in the bridge, sensed the League planes’ intent and immediately ordered the anti-aircraft guns to open fire.

Shells like locusts burst into an impenetrable wall of clouds in the sky, yet compared to the rockets breaking Mach three, they were still a step too slow.

Rockets trailing tails of fire pierced the dense cloud of shrapnel like javelins!

Though most scraped past the anchor chains, five or six still struck the steel pod tethered by chains as thick as a man's embrace.

The exploding flames severed the anchor chain in two, the blast's momentum shaking the entire airship's towering frame.

The steel pod, still descending, crashed heavily onto the plain, stirring up billowing dust.

Watching the falling steel pod, the chiliarch Taute, lying on his back, finally let a trace of despair creep onto his face.

In his understanding, the Legion's steel airships were invincible, unbeatable!

Yet the reality before his eyes shattered his faith utterly.

Despair wasn't only on Taute's face; the myriarch Woolf, about to board the pod, felt it too.

He could never return.

The First Mechanized Division of Golden Port had already reached his doorstep, and only two thousand men remained on the west bank.

With just these two thousand, he couldn't possibly hold off those wolf-like, ferocious bastards!

And indeed, twenty "Chimera" armored vehicles were the first to reach the west bank at the bend of the Eternal River; their 37mm rapid-fire guns chattered, scattering the light infantry guarding the riverbank into a panicked rout.

As two armored regiments cut onto the higher slope to the west, Woolf, sitting in his command vehicle, abandoned all hope of escape.

A white flag rose from the command vehicle; he reluctantly gave the order to surrender.

Hearing the voice over the comm channel, the grimace on Taute's face turned to ashen despair.

"I told you, it's over."

Not wanting to mock the man, Edge Loafing merely taunted him, then picked up the sidearm that had fallen by his hand.

That mud-smeared face stared at him expressionlessly, then suddenly squeezed out a word from cracked lips.

"Kill me."

Edge Loafing chuckled.

"We don't kill prisoners."

Taute's emotions suddenly flared; he staggered to his feet.

"Then give me back my gun!"

But before his words died, he was knocked to the ground by a rifle butt.

The blow came from a soldier of the Bharata Kingdom.

He glared at the officer with murderous eyes, itching to cut off his head.

Since the Lion City massacre, all Vlandians were the same to him.

He only wished he could slaughter them all!

But Edge Loafing didn't give Taute a chance at "glory"; he reached out to stop the comrade about to strike.

Stepping before Taute, he looked down at the man panting in the mud like a stray dog.

"...I won't do that either. We'll let you live until this war ends, then let the victims of this war judge you, and you'll carry your sins to hell to repent."

Without another glance, Edge Loafing just said, "Keep an eye on him," and walked away.

The ground battle was over.

Both the Vlandians trapped by the river and those on the hills chose to surrender.

Perhaps wary of friendly casualties, or to save ammunition, the airship hovering above never opened fire, instead retreating westward to regroup with the main force before seeking revenge.

Watching the airship fade into the distance, Isher's face was a mask of disbelief.

"...We actually won."

"Don't get too cocky; it's just this one battle."

Standing at the edge of the hill, Edge Loafing looked into the distance, his eyes narrowing slightly.

In the pitch-black clouds, a faint, barely perceptible menace lurked.

He knew where that menace came from.

At the same moment of their victory, four airships no less formidable than the Horn had already reached West Sail Port and were setting sail eastward.

This intelligence came from the Southern Alliance allies and was confirmed by Fallen Feather.

The news was now posted on the official forum of *Wasteland OL*.

Seeing Edge Loafing's grave expression, Isher also shed his overconfidence, turning serious.

"...What do we do next?"

"Next... we celebrate, of course."

Seeing Isher on high alert, Edge Loafing suddenly relaxed his brow, smiling as he clapped him on the shoulder.

"Cheer up—we just won a battle. And our allies say they caught a big fish under that airship, a myriarch by rank."

"The myriarch of the 36th Myriarchy?!" Isher's face lit up with surprise.

No wonder he was so excited!

Until yesterday, they'd been on the receiving end of the Legion's beatings.

The Bharata Kingdom had lost more officers than they could count on two hands; finally, they had a moment of pride.

Though the prisoner was taken by the Alliance, it made no difference!

"Yeah, that bastard—a fool who underestimated us. I'll have to thank him later... thanks to his thick-headedness, insisting on crossing this river."

Seeing Isher's delighted face, Edge Loafing smiled and squeezed his shoulder.

"What did I tell you before? That airship was nothing to fear."

"Things will get better, little by little."