Chapter 775: The End of the Civil War

Chapter 775: The End of the Civil War

Under the cover of naval bombardment, four "Viper" transport aircraft rapidly breached the defense zone of the North Island coastline, deploying twenty-five power armors swiftly onto the airfield.

Faced with these ferocious, heavily-armed foes, the guard company responsible for airfield security was routed almost as soon as the exchange began, succumbing after a single engagement.

Gunfire flickered continuously at the airfield's perimeter, tracer rounds weaving through the runways like an impenetrable net.

Leaning against a square sandbag wall, the platoon leader in his bulletproof vest pressed his helmet firmly against the sandbags, not daring to raise his weapon above cover to return fire.

Nearby, a medic was tending to a wounded soldier lying on a stretcher.

The casualty had lost half a leg, his pale face beaded with sweat, breathing rapidly like a beached fish.

The platoon leader gritted his teeth and shouted into his radio.

"The perimeter is collapsing! Their firepower is too intense! We need reinforcements!"

Static crackled from the other end of the radio; he waited for a response that never came, only hearing a series of explosions.

"Damn it!"

He cursed, clipped the radio back onto his shoulder, crouched low, and thrust his rifle over the cover, spraying wildly toward the source of the gunfire.

But before he could fire off more than two rounds, two thick tracer rounds whizzed past his barrel and slammed into the ground before him.

The bullets were at least 20mm in caliber; upon impact, they ricocheted skyward, but the roar of their collision with the earth left his head ringing.

Shrapnel and gravel stung his face; he let out a pained cry and fell backward onto the ground.

"Ah—!!"

The Alliance did not cease fire.

One power armor, wielding a 20mm cavalry rifle, intermittently fired to suppress the cover, while three others advanced methodically, their muzzles soon trained on the guards behind the barricade.

There was no doubt about the outcome.

The guard company platoon leader immediately dropped his rifle, and even before the enemy spoke, he compliantly crouched by the wall with his hands clasped behind his head.

"I surrender!"

Old Bai gestured to a teammate, signaling him to take out plastic restraints and bind the prisoners.

Then he raised his right hand, swiped his index finger several times across the floating window of his tactical visor, and set the next phase of attack objectives for each squad on the map.

The Y-2 drone accompanying them had already completed a full scan of the battlefield terrain, marking identified enemy units in red on the map.

The entire process felt like a game.

Though it was, after all, a game.

With the quadcopter drone's assistance, six squads reached their designated areas as planned, seizing over 80% of the airfield's facilities and the most critical runway.

"Guard post secured!"

"Hangar captured!"

"Enemy reinforcements spotted! 317 personnel sighted, ten police armored vehicles, and two suspected armored units! Likely Federal Marines!"

Hearing the voice over the comms, Killdagger nearly laughed out loud, unable to resist a jab.

"Is that all they've got?"

Glancing at the smoke-choked airfield, Kidney Fighter chimed in with a mocking tone.

"Think about it—the whole island has only a few tens of thousands of people. They still have to maintain a navy and army; scraping together a single battalion is already impressive."

The situation here was the polar opposite of the Brahmin Province. The entire North Island was smaller than Golden Port Harbor, and its military forces couldn't even muster a thousand-man unit.

Still, even if they couldn't assemble a thousand troops, tossing the airfield's guard company into the Brahmin Province to fight a thousand-man unit would be no problem.

After all, the Xilan Empire scavenged the Legion's discarded junk, while the Federation's armed forces were designed with the Legion as their hypothetical enemy.

The disparity in productivity and education levels was absolute; even an ordinary soldier here possessed greater military competence than many junior officers in the Xilan Empire.

As the two were chatting, Old Bai's voice came over the comms.

"...Don't let your guard down—the battle isn't over! Killdagger, the Federal Marines are to your northwest. Expect contact within three minutes. I'm handing over command of the two nearby squads to you. Stop them! Don't let them near the runway!"

"Roger!"

Killdagger acknowledged immediately, then shouted to his comrades behind him.

"Brothers! Time to work!"

"Oorah!!"

With an excited roar, Kidney Fighter slapped a fresh drum magazine into his light machine gun and racked the bolt with a sharp click.

Meanwhile, at the guard post, Old Bai had already seized control of the airfield's communication equipment and contacted the command post at Fries Port via the local radio tower.

"We've secured the airfield, ten minutes ahead of schedule. How long until reinforcements?"

After a brief crackle of static, the operator's voice came through.

"Reinforcements have already departed. Estimated time of arrival: fifteen minutes."

"Tell them to hurry. I'm worried Torch will send reinforcements to the North Island. If we can't finish the ground fight quickly, there'll be a tough battle ahead... and it'll be hard to keep civilian casualties down."

"Understood. We're coordinating with the reinforcement crews."

After the communication ended, Old Bai left one squad to hold the position and immediately led the remaining players to reinforce the northwest side of the airfield.

Killdagger's three squads would intercept the Federal Marines head-on, while they would flank the enemy units after the engagement began, coordinating with Alliance air units to eliminate the more troublesome enemy armor.

Just as the Burning Legion's vanguard prepared to meet the enemy, the Federal Marines had already reached the northwest entrance of the airfield.

With the explosion of a rifle grenade, the flames of war ignited instantly.

The airfield, silent for only a few minutes, was once again drowned in the clamor of gunfire.

The Federal Marines organized a battalion-strength force to counterattack, even deploying police armored vehicles from the station and two prototype "Alligator" amphibious armored vehicles that had yet to enter mass production.

The latter was developed by North Island Heavy Industries under Charas's orders, intended for use in the landings on Anle Island and Ring Island.

But before this equipment could see action, the South Sea Alliance had already landed on the North Island first.

Although these light armored vehicles boasted superior firepower compared to "personal armor" like power armor, their numbers were far too scarce.

Moreover, since the equipment was still in development and not officially fielded, the Federal Marines lacked sufficient experience in coordinating infantry with armored vehicles.

The two "Alligator" amphibious armored vehicles had barely reached the front lines before they became separated from the infantry, trapped in the narrow alleys near the airfield.

Seizing that fleeting opportunity, Killdagger didn't hesitate. He unshouldered the pigeon-type missile launcher from his back, barked "Cover me!" to his teammate, and vaulted over a half-collapsed low wall onto the rooftop of a building along the alley.

The two armored vehicles were in full view. The lead one was laying down fire toward the airfield with its 30mm autocannon, trying to drive off the "Viper" transport aircraft circling overhead to provide ground support.

Killdagger took a deep breath, expertly activated the launcher's camera function, snapped a photo of the armored vehicle just 150 meters away, and the missile's seeker immediately locked onto the target.

With everything ready, he pulled the trigger without hesitation, shouting excitedly.

"RPG!"

Though it wasn't an RPG, he still habitually yelled that.

A thick white smoke trail shot out like an arrow from a bow, striking directly beneath the armored vehicle's turret. The vehicle erupted like a lighter, bursting into a dazzling fireball with a deafening explosion.

The pigeon-type missile, equipped with a metallic hydrogen warhead, far surpassed the destructive power of a standard RPG anti-armor round—though its cost was also over ten times higher.

The surrounding Federal Marine soldiers were stunned by the explosion's blaze, and as they came to, they swiveled their gun barrels, concentrating fire on the trail of white smoke.

The Dagger Killer was about to load the next missile when he noticed the armored vehicle behind him turning its cannon toward him. Startled, he leaped from the rooftop.

But he soon realized it was a false alarm.

After the armored vehicle ahead exploded, the one following it was clearly terrified, reversing frantically while spraying fire at the rooftop.

The roar of the cannon left the Marines flanking the armored vehicle dizzy and ringing, unable to aim at him, barely even holding their rifles steady.

"Damn, friendly fire, a pro move!" The Dagger Killer, already off the roof, watched in awe. If he'd known their coordination was this bad, he'd have stayed put.

And as he stood there stunned, a series of whistling sounds swept over his head, followed by the simultaneous roar of autocannons and the shrieking of shrapnel!

The armored vehicle, retreating in panic while firing, had clearly been marked by its own side. The muzzle flash gave away its position, and the brothers in the air didn't even bother with air-to-ground missiles—a burst of cannon fire turned it into a tin can.

Its top armor, not particularly thick, was like paper against the 20mm armor-piercing incendiary rounds, and even the turret was blown skyward.

The soldiers crouching beside the armored vehicle were buried in the dust by the splattering shrapnel, and the alley fell silent in an instant.

Watching the sparks burst like fireworks and the P-2 "Lightning" attack plane skim low over the ruins, the players firing from behind cover let out excited cheers.

"Nice shot!"

The Dagger Killer, who had just locked on, lowered his missile launcher and smacked his lips in lingering regret.

"MMP! They stole my kill!"

But autocannon rounds were cheaper than missiles anyway, so he let it slide.

Unlike the Burning Legion, the Federal Marines' morale had plummeted into the abyss.

Staring at the burning alley not far away, Marine Commander Lundi's eyes bulged as if they might pop out, his face ashen with despair.

Those two "Alligator" armored vehicles were almost their only hope, yet they couldn't hold out for ten minutes against the Alliance's airborne troops.

Though their equipment and training were far superior to the airport's guard company, and they even had some relics from the Prosperous Era, they were still no match for these professionals.

Just then, the silhouettes of two "Overlord" transport planes appeared on the horizon, their massive bodies and elongated plasma plumes as conspicuous as meteors in the night sky.

The majestic fuselages slammed heavily onto the runway, skidded for a distance, and then came to a halt, lowering their wide, heavy ramps.

Eight menacing armored vehicles rolled out of the ramps—Alliance "Chimeras"!

Along with them came nearly five hundred soldiers, armed to the teeth with exoskeletons.

They gripped compact assault rifles, their gleaming breastplates radiating a chilling cold.

"It's over..."

Continuing to fight would only send the young men of North Island to their deaths for nothing.

If the Alliance's planes could come once, they could come again, and with their meager forces, they had no hope of retaking the airport.

Even if the battleship returned, it would be useless—a fleet without a port is an orphan at sea.

Seeing the two transport planes land, Lundi's will to resist had completely evaporated.

He turned to his equally ashen-faced adjutant, his Adam's apple bobbing, and finally forced out the helpless words.

"...We've lost."

...

After futile resistance, the Federal Marines chose to surrender.

Apart from Charas's personal guards still holding out at the presidential palace, North Island had no resistance left.

Charas had not allowed mutants on the island—the only decent thing he'd ever done.

Otherwise, things would have been far more troublesome.

After consulting with the South Sea Alliance's naval command, the command of the Fries Port military base decided against bombing the presidential palace, opting instead to send ground forces to capture Charas and his cronies.

After Old White and Fang Chang rendezvoused, they quickly devised a plan to assault the palace, agreeing to bring another plane-load of troops from Fries Port and let the new recruits in the legion practice storming the building.

As for Charas himself, he might hold significance for the South Sea Alliance, but for the Alliance and the players, he was expendable.

The priority was ensuring the safety of local survivors and the integrity of industrial facilities, especially guarding against a landing by the Torch Church's mutant forces.

As for the locals' own affairs, they had no tradition of meddling.

At the same time the Burning Legion occupied North Island, the Federal fleet and the South Sea Alliance fleet finally made contact.

Both sides' signals appeared on each other's radar, and the situation instantly became tense.

Aboard the cruiser *Harpoon*, fleet commander Wu Meng stared coldly at the radar screen, ready to give the order to attack.

But just then, a communication request came from the command on Anle Island.

"...Can you patch through to the *Haiya*'s channel?"

Hearing Commander Li Minghui's voice, Wu Meng paused slightly, frowning.

"We can... but is it necessary?"

"Contact them!"

Wu Meng thought for two seconds, then nodded.

"Understood."

After giving the order, the communications officer began trying to reach the battleship *Haiya*.

But Wu Meng didn't waste precious time waiting.

He knew well what kind of man Captain Wake was—a die-hard warmonger and Charas's most loyal fan.

The word "surrender" didn't exist in his dictionary; hoping he'd surrender was like hoping Charas would resign.

No doubt, the electromagnetic cannon on the other side was already charging, maybe even aimed at him.

Wu Meng calmly issued a first-level combat readiness order, putting all ships' weapons and defense systems on standby.

His adjutant, standing nearby, looked at him nervously.

"Do you think he won't surrender?"

Wu Meng said flatly.

"I'd rather he didn't."

"Why?" The adjutant blinked, surprised.

Wu Meng's expression remained unchanged as he said succinctly,

"The southern seas need to recuperate. We can't afford another war... A moderate reduction in armaments isn't bad for us; it's beneficial. Otherwise, we might be dragged by our allies into a war that isn't ours, even if they have just cause."

"If they really want that thing, they can pay our shipyards to build one. As long as they pay and provide materials, our workers and engineers can build them another one, and let the Alliance's boys sail it themselves."

And most crucially, Charas and his cronies must be completely eradicated.

If the Alliance, for strategic reasons, interfered with their judiciary and let the *Haiya*'s crew escape postwar trial, even continue serving on that battleship, it could sow greater troubles later.

Of course, this was just his own judgment.

If the South Sea Alliance's high command had other ideas, he could only keep his regrets to himself.

At the same time, on Anle Island, Commander Li Minghui paced back and forth before the sea chart in the naval command center.

Victory is within sight!

His palms were slick with sweat, half from excitement, half from tension.

Charras could no longer stir up any trouble; now only one last mine remained to be defused.

That was the Federation fleet!

Those ships were the property of the survivors of the South Sea Alliance, who had poured immense effort and sweat into them—losing any one of them would be a tremendous loss!

If possible, he hoped to avoid a final exchange of fire.

As long as those young men were willing to turn back, everything could still be salvaged.

To secure leverage for dividing post-war spoils, and to gain bargaining chips for negotiations with the Alliance, he needed the *Sea’s End*—and the residents of the South Sea Alliance needed it just as much!

Besides, even if they continued fighting now, it would be meaningless; Charras had already lost this decisive battle! That pitiful wretch was cowering in his bunker, trembling!

Finally managing to contact the bridge of the battleship *Sea’s End*, he immediately strode to the communication terminal, braced his hands on the table, and stared at the face appearing on the screen.

“Surrender, Wick! The Burning Legion has already landed on North Island—you’ve lost!”

Wick stared back coldly, his eyes devoid of any fear, instead filled with contempt.

“Cowardly traitor.”

“Traitor?” Li Minghui was taken aback, then laughed bitterly at the remark. “You helped Charras suppress the residents of the Federation islands, using the cannons and shells they built for you to threaten them into following your master—how do you have the nerve to utter the word ‘traitor’?”

“And what about you?” Wick narrowed his eyes. “How is what you do any different from what I do?”

“I have always fought for them,” Li Minghui said, his face unflushed and heart steady as he met Wick’s gaze.

No matter if greed had ever stirred in his heart, he could honestly say that, at least so far, he had not crossed the line.

But upon hearing this, Wick suddenly burst into laughter, as if he had heard a very funny joke.

“Stop spouting nonsense! How are you any nobler than Charras? At least he can bring us a brighter future! But you—you’re leading the young men of the southern seas to become puppets of the Alliance! To expand their territory for them!”

A brighter future?

Given the current state of North Island?

Li Minghui looked at this still-deluded fool with pity and clicked his tongue softly.

“Your understanding of a puppet is simply refusing to be a dog for Charras or the Torch? What a pitiful creature—indeed, a dog sees everything as a dog.”

But no sooner had he said this than he regretted it.

He suddenly remembered that he had come to persuade surrender, not to mock.

Sure enough, the other side remained utterly unmoved by his words, not even bothering to take them to heart.

Wick gently adjusted the captain’s cap on his head and said expressionlessly,

“Smooth talk is the talent of you politicians. You have the skill to turn white into black and black into white—that’s your calling, not mine.”

“… Enough talk. Let’s settle this on the battlefield.”

Li Minghui’s eyes widened.

“Are you insane! Can’t you see that even if you win, it means nothing!”

This man was the captain himself—he should know better than anyone what this situation meant!

“Meaningless?” Wick sneered, his face indifferent as he looked at the stunned Li Minghui. “Turning you into rubble—does that count as meaning?”

At that, his expression suddenly twisted.

Like a beast trapped in a snare.

“Don’t think you can talk me into submission! Either we all go to heaven together, or we all go to hell! If I let you vermin rule the southern seas, I’d rather destroy it with my own hands!”

It was just a matter of swapping homes!

As long as he could annihilate the South Sea Alliance fleet, then drive straight to Anle Island, capture Li Minghui and the other officers as hostages, he might still save North Island!

At the very least, he could use that man as a bargaining chip!

With the war at this stage, the Alliance couldn’t just stand by. If they didn’t want the settlements in the Baiyue Strait reduced to scorched earth, they’d better withdraw from North Island immediately!

Expecting him to surrender—

Don’t even think about it!

Staring at the now-dark screen, Li Minghui’s face was full of astonishment.

The communications officer sitting beside him was equally stunned, though also a bit speechless.

With that level of rhetoric, he dared to try persuasion? Might as well let me do the talking!

Silence fell over the command post.

Li Minghui’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and it took a long while before he squeezed out a single word from his dry throat.

“Mad…”

Not just Charras himself, but all those who followed him—they were all mad…

He took two steps back, sat down in the chair before the command table, and pressed his index finger and thumb against his brow, saying nothing more.

What came next would hold no surprises.

Before this battle began, they had rehearsed it countless times on the sea charts, compressing every possibility of error to a minimum.

But thinking of that battleship, Li Minghui couldn’t help but feel a pang of anguish.

That was a battleship, after all…

What a crime!

…

A dazzling white light flashed across the sea surface, leaping over the layered waves like a skybridge stretching from the battleship *Sea’s End* to the cruiser *Harpoon*.

Ballistics is a complex discipline; its content is not merely the calculation of projectile motion, but the complete design of the entire projectile’s trajectory.

To understand an electromagnetic cannon as simply “throwing bricks with force” would be far too impoverished an imagination. Even in the classical era before the Age of Prosperity, people knew how to equip shells with timed variable tail fins or other intelligent guidance components.

For the Age of Prosperity, naturally, this was not a difficult task.

Bolts installed inside the tail of the mass projectile could use the material’s own memory properties to record time parameters, causing the projectile to release flexible tail fins retracted at the tail after reaching a predetermined altitude, enabling the shell flying diagonally upward to make a large-curvature arc in the air—macroscopically, it looked as if the shell had bent mid-flight.

Including the “air resistance reduction” design of the shell’s warhead, everything from the launcher to the fired projectile belonged to the creations of the Age of Prosperity.

The only things capable of countering them were also artifacts from that same era.

The battleship *Sea’s End* fired three mass projectiles in succession. Drones flying along the cloud line captured the trajectory of the mass projectiles and focused their lenses on the cruiser *Harpoon*.

Yet what left everyone aboard the *Sea’s End* utterly dumbfounded happened.

The *Harpoon* did not activate its deflection shield to counter as they had anticipated; instead, it took the hit squarely with its hull.

They had intended to use the electromagnetic cannon to overload the shield’s capacitor, but instead, they scored a direct hit.

However, incomprehensibly, the meteor-like mass projectile, after striking the bow dead-on, did not punch a hole through the broad bow but grazed it and plunged into the sea!

A column of water dozens of meters high shot into the air, and the immense kinetic energy even created a vast cavity beneath the surface, shaking the majestic cruiser sideways.

Standing in the bridge, Wu Meng steadied himself with his right hand on a railing, his eyes quickly scanning the screen. That last shot had only drained 12% of the Meissner-effect armor capacitor’s energy.

Perhaps due to the slope of the armor, most of the kinetic energy slammed into the sea; this thing’s performance in actual combat seemed even more astonishing than the experimental projections—at this rate, even if he sailed the cruiser within visual range of the enemy, it likely wouldn’t matter.

For in the very moment of his astonishment, the shipboard reactor was slowly charging the armor capacitors.

The battleship Haiya, clearly unconvinced, unleashed another three-round salvo.

This time, those fellows were unexpectedly lucky—two shots hit, and only one went wide.

Seeing that the enemy could do nothing to him, Wu Meng finally relaxed completely.

Just as the battleship Haiya was pounding the cruiser Harpoon, an anti-ship missile skimming the wave crests had already breached the point-defense system’s blind spot on the destroyer Flying Fish, blasting a gaping hole in its hull.

The left flank of the Federation fleet instantly showed a breach; the sole remaining destroyer Defender could barely save itself, let alone protect the Haiya at its side.

That towering steel beast was like a wounded lion, surrounded by crouching, snarling hyenas.

The submarine Shark’s Tooth, lying in ambush nearby, seized the opportunity first, lunging without hesitation, launching a torpedo armed with a metallic hydrogen warhead at that arrogant sea giant.

A pillar of fire erupted from the sea.

Though the torpedo was prematurely detonated by a decoy, Shark’s Tooth quickly fired a second, then a third.

Including the other two attack nuclear submarines.

They were born for this moment, and in the end, they did not betray their mission—sending the traitors of the Federation, or rather the South Sea Alliance, to the ocean floor.

The sole remaining destroyer Defender wisely raised the white flag; Captain Wu Meng of the Harpoon ordered a ceasefire and accepted the surrender of his former comrades.

Watching the fading ripples on the radar screen and the growing echoes on the sonar, he let out a relieved sigh, took off his captain’s cap, and placed it over the screen before him.

“It’s finally over.”

Though the war to purge the Torch Church was not yet finished, at least he no longer had to face those familiar faces…